<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>HEART☆BEAT☆DROP by BinaBina</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794014">HEART☆BEAT☆DROP</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaBina/pseuds/BinaBina'>BinaBina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And The Beat Thumps On [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Pokemon, DJ!Raihan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Smut In Final Chapter, Starting Off On The Wrong Foot, and theyre willing to hang out with you, especially when theyre hotter than you ever envisioned them being, indie artist piers, mega fanboy raihan, piers is a bit pretentious about music but learns to appreciate other things, rediscovering lost passion, self-image issues (raihan), self-worth issues (piers), sometimes its ok to meet your idols, the inherent eroticism of collaborating artistically in one's bedroom, they both have Problems and help each other with them</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>91,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaBina/pseuds/BinaBina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The music fleeing the speakers is familiar. Beyond familiar, it's <em>recognizable,</em> and he recognizes it because it's his own damn song! His music, playing in a bloody nightclub. He's not hallucinating, he's not that drunk, this is real. Real and downright offensive, because this is the last place anyone should hear his style. His shit's above being played at a place like this alongside the rest of the club trash. He's still got some pride left, damn it all, and he won't let this mockery stand.</p><p>Piers snarls, ready to shove away from the bar, but the beat changes, and the recognizable fades back to merely familiar. The riff of guitar is split through with a surge of foreign synths. The tempo picks up and drums that aren't his own define an energy he never intended.</p><p>This isn't only his song. It's a remix. Someone's made a remix of his music.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And The Beat Thumps On [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>319</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. To Be Noticed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Had this one brewing for a while now! I'm excited to finally get it out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's past midnight, and Piers is currently trying to drown himself one neat sip at a time. His lack of progress is marked by his continued ability to hear himself think despite the thunderous music and oppressive heat of a packed crowd. And that won't do at all.</p>
<p>The ice cubes in his rum and coke are streaked with the same knife-sharp neon flashing from the dance floor spotlights behind him. He swirls them around to keep them loose before taking another drink. Damn barkeep filled his glass with more ice than booze and still charged him twelve fucking pounds for it. He'll have to keep digging into his wallet if he wants to get properly wasted. Digging for cash he earned from his stupid soulless hourly wage and not from making music.</p>
<p>Piers has told himself over and over that he isn't making music for the money. Or for the fame. He makes music because he has a message to send, passion to share, parts of his soul he wants to lay bare for the world to see.</p>
<p>The problem is, that only works if people listen to his shit in the first place.</p>
<p>He's clung to the small pride of being "underground" for as long as he could delude himself into thinking that underground was a great place to be. Turns out sound can't carry very far through dirt.</p>
<p>His latest album was released two weeks ago. Within that time, there was no spike in purchases or downloads, hardly any comments, hardly any shares beyond the few people who've been around since the start. He's only sold four physical CDs so far, and two of them were bought by the same person. The numbers aren't supposed to matter, he's always told himself not to care about the numbers, but when they're so pathetically, pitifully low, his pride couldn't avoid the bruising.</p>
<p>It was the slight shift in style, wasn't it. He experimented too much. Took too long since his last release, made his handful of fans wait too long, so they jumped ship and latched onto whatever other indie artists tickled their hipster fancies. He takes another drink.</p>
<p>A round of drunk shouting carries through the club. People are clumsily cheering along to the music. Typical electronic fare, with just enough pop tune to keep everyone comfortable. The DJ's leaving holes in the lyrics on purpose and the crowd is rising to the challenge just fine.</p>
<p>Once he's had enough to drink, he'll join them. Find someone to dance with. If all goes well, he'll find someone to take home. Or go home with. He's not picky. As long as it ends with his clothes on the floor and his body on a bed, or whatever the nearest usable surface is to get fucked on, he'll be satisfied. Been far too long since he got action. Perils of being married to one's passions. What a one-sided love affair it is.</p>
<p>He's put so much into his music and he's got nothing to fucking show for it.</p>
<p>The ice nearly hits his face when he throws back half the rum and coke. The warm pulse of fresh tipsiness smothers his thoughts down, stops them from surfacing. The music's picking up in intensity, another welcome distraction. These sounds are nothing Piers would ever listen to in his free time, but there's nothing wrong with indulging in other genres. Broadens one's appreciation.</p>
<p>These song transitions are seamless, and he can respect that display of skill at least. Whatever bugger's in that stuffy little box they call a DJ booth ain't half bad.</p>
<p>He drums his fingers to some screechy bass drop and finishes off his drink. He should just go for a few shots this time. Nothing with ice taking up all the space in it.</p>
<p>He lifts a hand to try his luck at catching the bartender's attention amidst the sea of others trying to do the same. Someone's elbow pushes into his personal space and he scowls. Can't do much more than that; he signed up for having no bubble, coming to a place like this. And he plans on having no personal space soon anyways, once he's drunk enough to get onto the dance floor and let people grind on him. He's already drunk enough to not care about having to wait for another drink. And drunk enough to start humming under his breath in the meantime.</p>
<p>No one can hear him but himself. It's a tune from his pathetic little album. Wet Gunpowder, he called this one, which is apt, considering it didn't blow up how he wanted it to. Not even a spark.</p>
<p>Ugh, maybe he doesn't need that drink after all if he can hear his music this well in his head. He doesn't want to listen to his own shit right now, he wants electronic trash filling his ears so he doesn't have to think about his failures and his crushed motivation and his...</p>
<p>No... No, hang on...</p>
<p>The music fleeing the speakers is familiar. Beyond familiar, it's <em> recognizable</em>, and he recognizes it because it's his own damn song! His music, playing in a bloody nightclub. He's not hallucinating, he's not that drunk, this is real. Real and downright offensive, because this is the last place anyone should hear his style. His shit's above being played at a place like this alongside the rest of the club trash. He's still got some pride left, damn it all, and he won't let this mockery stand.</p>
<p>Piers snarls, ready to shove away from the bar, but the beat changes, and the recognizable fades back to merely familiar. The riff of guitar is split through with a surge of foreign synths. The tempo picks up and drums that aren't his own define an energy he never intended.</p>
<p>This isn't only his song. It's a remix. Someone's made a remix of his music.</p>
<p>It's baffling on two accounts; one because he considers himself fairly underground and hearing anyone playing his music even privately on their own headphones would turn his head, and two because whoever made and published this remix did it <em> without ever asking him for permission. </em></p>
<p>It's possible that the DJ isn't the one responsible. It's possible whoever made this threw it up online not intending for anyone to find it or use it commercially, and this DJ stumbled across it not knowing what it was, and thought it was good enough to add to his set, which is still pretty fucking audacious if they didn't get permission for that either. Just saw a good track and nabbed it up.</p>
<p>Because it is rather good, isn't it?</p>
<p>Least he can do is give this thing a listen to see how the culprit, whoever they may be, twisted his music into a fucking club banger.</p>
<p>Piers hunkers back down over the bar to listen to what happened to his precious song. His mind switches from gnashing to actively analyzing the cross-genre music blasting through the body-heated air. His fingers trail around the slick rim of his drink, brows furrowed, eyes closed, ears open.</p>
<p>Synths and trap drum beats shouldn't work this well on his style. His voice shouldn't sound this good chopped and spliced into little pieces and sprinkled like candy over chords that aren't his. Does everyone else like it...? He glances over his shoulder at the floor. Electric guitar doesn't belong in a scene like this, but here it is, driving the club-goers crazy, winding spirits tight and twining them together to turn the crowd into a frictive, grinding mess on the dance floor.</p>
<p>He has to admit there's something special about seeing so many people losing themselves to his music, even if it's been cut apart and stitched back together by a hand other than his own. It's still his stuff in there that people are loving, jumping, grinding to, nearly fucking each other to.</p>
<p>Piers doesn't realize he's turned to fully face the floor until a spotlight does a drive-by over his face and nearly blinds him. He blinks and tightens his grip on his drink, and the slight back-and-forth slide of it over the bar's surface keys him to the fact that his body is rocking in time to the beat. His foot's tapping on the booze-tacky floor. He's actually into it.</p>
<p>The DJ booth draws his eye. The person behind the turntables should be able to tell him where this remix came from, at least. He of all people has a right to know.</p>
<p>His empty glass slams against the bar and he shoves away from it at last, diving into the surge and sway of drunk dancers. Patience is required to ease the way from one end of a dance floor to the other when it's this packed, and Piers' hold on his is getting precariously weak with every counterproductive bump or stumbling drunk popping out of nowhere and getting in his way. His annoyance helps him stay focused, but it's a tough thing. It's hard to, when alcohol dulls his will and the music builds and builds and the energy of the crowd is thick in the air, when hungry hands tug on him for his attention.</p>
<p>A path opens up and Piers swerves into it before it can close. Just in time, too, because a new twist in the music sends the crowd into a frenzy and Piers is shoved against the side of the DJ booth by the natural tide. The box is vibrating with the force of the music pounding from the speakers right next to it. The proximity is sending Piers' bones thrumming. He almost hates how much the music is affecting him, and has to remind himself that he's on a mission.</p>
<p>Now that he's on the same side of the twirling lights as the DJ booth, he can see what the man looks like through the tinted glass. Or see what he's dressed in, rather, because most of his head is hidden behind a garish orange headband, sunglasses (in a club, really?), and a pair of fancy cans that likely cost more than what most people here make in a month. The only thing visible of him is a wide open grin, teeth flashing in the dark looking dangerously sharp and wicked. Trick of the flashing lights, surely.</p>
<p>Piers shoves his arm in the air and waves, shouting to no avail because of the speakers right bloody next to him drowning everything in eclectic rock-and-electronic.</p>
<p>By some blessed chance, the DJ's head bobbing and dancing turns him enough to catch a glimpse of Piers' waving. The man abruptly flicks his sunglasses up, and through the tinted glass of the booth windows Piers can see the once-over he's given, and the wink and welcoming jerk of the head that follows.</p>
<p>Is he inviting Piers in...? Is that allowed? Whatever, he's going in anyways.</p>
<p>The door pushes open easily and Piers slips inside, grateful to escape the crowd. The shutting of the door muffles the noise enough to hear himself think, but the whole box buzzes with the physicality of music blasting just outside.</p>
<p>The DJ gives him a head-bobbing nod and holds up a hand with all five fingers splayed, pressing the pointer finger of his other hand to his lips.</p>
<p>Wait five minutes, got it.</p>
<p>Piers tosses his head and crosses his arms, and sets his weight on one leg to wait and watch.</p>
<p>The man is taller than he looked outside the booth, filling up the entire verticality of the space even while bent over the turntables. His hands are large, splayed across various synthesizers with fingers moving in polyrhythm, tweaking knobs and sliders and striking pads and... is this remix <em> live? </em></p>
<p>Piers' jaw drops unseen. This is the culprit, right here.</p>
<p>He wants to reach out and grab the man's shoulder, spin him around, but something keeps him right where he is. No harm in seeing what he can do. No harm in waiting five minutes when he already got the man's attention, when there's still music to listen to. If his tracking of the samples from his own song are correct, they're just about to reach the bridge. The song's been building, building, and when the DJ kicks off that blasted double-time drum escalation thing that's in every electronic club song ever, it's a sign the drop is coming.</p>
<p>Goosebumps crawl up his arms as the beats come faster and faster, drilling tighter and tighter, winding up alongside a twisted sample of his own guitar and screaming, and then—</p>
<p>Then—</p>
<p>With a full-body pause, the DJ leaves the peak hanging. It's only Piers' voice, now, singing high at the top of his lungs, artificially extended long beyond what he remembers being able to hold, long enough to make Piers' lungs ache just by listening. His voice fragments, stutters, and he holds his breath to listen. The DJ's whole body slumps and his hands fly down to drop the beat.</p>
<p>It just about tears the soul out of his body.</p>
<p>The shelter of the booth barely protects him from the force of it, of his own screaming voice cascading over a plunge of bass and rip-roaring synths, a shooting star streaking high above a cataclysmic natural disaster. Through the dark-tinted glass, the crowd is a sea in a storm, tossing and clashing as they roll and grind to the climax. Looks like a godforsaken orgy out there.</p>
<p>It's over too soon. At the same time, if that went on for any longer, Piers doubts he'd have kept his sanity intact.</p>
<p>He shakes off the shudders of what that drop did to him and claps his hand on the taller man's shoulder to get his attention. He's shrugged off, which instantly fires his ire back up.</p>
<p>The DJ winds the song down after that, bringing everyone down gentle after a ride like that. He gets a new song playing and starts fiddling with all the tech in front of him, unplugging cords and carefully setting each button-, dial-, switch- and slider-laden device into a large backpack. Once it's all packed up and slung on his shoulder, the man turns to point at the door. About bloody time.</p>
<p>They pass another person entering the booth that the DJ gives a nod and a wave to. Now out of the booth, the man's height is apparent. He parts the sea of people on the dance floor just by existing, and Piers glares at his upper back in jealousy as he dogs the DJ's heels to wherever the hell they're going.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Outside is damp, thanks to the rain that started and stopped during the time Piers was inside the club. His ears are ringing slightly as they come to a stop under a garishly-orange streetlamp lighting up the dingy lot behind the club.</p>
<p>"So what made you hunt me down, baby?" The man lowers his headphones to his neck, pulls his sunglasses off, and tucks them into a pocket on the massive bag he's shouldering. "Looking for a good time?"</p>
<p>Any sarcastic comment he has is thwarted once he gets a good look at the man before him. Minus the sunglasses, he can see now that this long-limbed giant is on the handsome side. Far, far on the handsome side. If this were any other night, and they met in any other way, Piers' answer would be something like "I think I just found one."</p>
<p>Sadly, he's not here to bone, he's got one to pick instead.</p>
<p>"I'm here to ask about that song you played."</p>
<p>Amusement plays across the DJ's face and Piers doesn't like it one bit. "I played a lot of songs. That's kind of my job."</p>
<p>He exhales harshly through his nose. "I mean the second to last one. With all the guitar in it."</p>
<p>Blue eyes light up like Christmas came early, and Piers instinctively leans away before a single word's come out of that smiling mouth. And once they do, oi... Man can really gush.</p>
<p>"Oh my god, I'm so glad you asked! There's this artist I'm a huge huge fan of, I've loved his stuff ever since I first found him ages ago and he only had two songs released! He's crazy talented! Does all the instrumentation himself, he's like a one-man band, doing the guitar and bass and the drums and even piano sometimes, all by himself, and I dunno if you could tell from my remixing, but his voice? It's basically sex."</p>
<p>Piers can find no way to comment on any of this. The onslaught of praise is making him dizzy, or maybe it's just the remnants of alcohol clinging to his system.</p>
<p>"I wish more people knew about him, his music's amazing. I'd eat it for breakfast if I could, seriously. I couldn't resist trying to expose more people to it in my set tonight. I'm so glad it worked if you're asking me about his stuff! Here, let me pull up his bandcamp—actually, let's do it on your phone so you don't forget who he is!"</p>
<p>"It's fine, I don't need to. I'm more interested in who you are," Piers grits out. His mind is freewheeling from the onslaught of indirect praise—indirect only in that the deliverer doesn't know who he's delivering it to. He has to cut it off before his emotions catch up and start doing inappropriate things like putting a blush on his face.</p>
<p>The taller man blinks and straightens up from where he was hunched over hoping that Piers would pull his phone out. He's got pierced ears, Piers notices. Gold studs, glinting in the orange streetlight.</p>
<p>"Why, did you like my remixing that much? I'm flattered! It's kinda bootleggy since I had to sample from the song as-is, didn't have any of the stems to make a proper remix out of, but I made it work. It really can't hold a candle to the original, if you like punk stuff. You look like you'd love his music! So come on, lemme just pull up..."</p>
<p>Dammit. It's hard to keep up the energy of a pending lecture when this man's such an enthusiastic fan of his music... He's still not over it. He's never met a fan in person before, he's mostly done it online. In real life? Forget it, what would be the chances? This is the first time he's ever met someone who's heard of his music, face to face.</p>
<p>Not that this man even knows who he is. Should he reveal himself...? Piers internally balks, suddenly feeling shy. You know what they say about meeting your idols. What if he doesn't live up to this man's expectations of what he's like? He could lose himself a fan—not just any fan, but the most passionate one he's ever encountered.</p>
<p>...Too bad there's no easy way to confront the DJ about how it isn't nice to perform remixes of other people's music without permission without either coming off as a nosy arsehole otherwise. And who knows, if the man really looks up to him musically, wouldn't knowing his identity get the point across harder?</p>
<p>Best to bite the bullet.</p>
<p>"Your remix was good, yeah," he dismisses. "But you went about it the wrong way."</p>
<p>"'Scuse me?" The man laughs, but it's less warm. "Look mate, I'm all for constructive criticism, but—"</p>
<p>"Just listen to me, will you?" He huffs. "You're real skilled, and your song was amazin'. I'm flattered you were tryin' to expose people to my stuff, but I'd appreciate if you contacted me and asked permission before usin' my music as part of your gigs."</p>
<p>The smile on the man's face stays fixed in place while it leaves his eyes. His stare turns a bit vacant, and Piers is almost tempted to wave in his face.</p>
<p>"You're saying... Wait, what?" He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, still with a smile plastered on. "No, that's... You're not..."</p>
<p>"I'd like to think I am, if that's what you're wondering."</p>
<p>"You're saying you're Piers. You." The man points at his chest with a shaky hand, and swings it to point at himself. "In front of me. Talking to me."</p>
<p>
  <em> Finally. </em>
</p>
<p>He stiffly nods and crosses his arms. "Yeah. 'S me." The man's stiff expression skyrockets into pure excitement. "And you took my music, remixed it, and played it in your set. For a job I assume you're gettin' paid for."</p>
<p>Excitement crumbles into horror. The taller man staggers a step back, and his long fingers cage the lower half of his face.</p>
<p>"Oh my god. I... Piers. I never thought I'd meet you like this. I never thought I'd meet you at all! I swear I meant no harm, I never would have done this if I knew you'd be here!"</p>
<p>"Fact that you did it at all is problem enough for me," he growls.</p>
<p>"I am so sorry. Fuck, I had no idea—I just wanted to give your music some extra exposure, and I was really proud of that remix I made, it's my best one so far, so I thought, why not put it in my set for the night? I was hoping people might be curious about it because it was so different, and if anyone asked me I was gonna send them your way, and..."</p>
<p>The man's wallowing goes ignored in favor of one specific thing he said standing out.</p>
<p>"Best one so far?" He incredulously parrots, and draws a step closer. "You have more?"</p>
<p>The DJ rubs the back of his neck. His head is hung so low that he actually glances <em> upwards </em> at him. "Yeah...? I told you, I really dig your stuff. It's crazy inspirational to me. I actually, uh," he barks out an embarrassed laugh, "have a whole remix album drafted out of your latest release. But I wasn't gonna monetize it, I swear! Just a personal passion project!"</p>
<p>Piers' latest release is a nine-song album. This madman's saying he has plans for each one. That's... there's no way he could finish such a project. No way he actually likes Piers' stuff that much. This has got to be some kind of dream.</p>
<p>"If you need compensation for tonight, I swear, I'll—I'll give you a cut of what I made tonight. I'm so sorry, I admit my plan was stupid and ballsy." He grabs a fistful of his headband, causing it to shift. "I never thought I'd meet you like this. Made a real arse of myself in front of my favorite artist. Great going..."</p>
<p>Favorite...? Him? He's someone's favorite artist? That's got to be an exaggeration. But who's he to argue, when the man seems so... genuine in his enthusiasm. There's not a trace of dishonesty or hyperbole in his sparkling eyes.</p>
<p>Piers turns his head and clears his throat, suddenly no longer willing to tell the other off anymore. He seems sorry enough. It'd be cruel to keep poking at him when he's looking like that.</p>
<p>"'S alright. Don't need no money from ya." Ugh, that facial expression belongs on puppies, not humans. "I'll take the good performance as payment enough."</p>
<p>The man gives him a breathless smile with all the stars in his eyes. Piers can't look away. He's never had anyone look at him like this before, and he's pinned in place by this spotlight of admiration.</p>
<p>"I have more than just that one song. If you want, I can... show you my stuff? Maybe? You don't have to, I'm sure you're crazy busy working on your own music and I'm just some small-time hobbyist asking for your time. I just, I can't believe I'm meeting you right now. I'd be stupid to let you slip away, you know?"</p>
<p>It's definitely the alcohol's fault that his face is getting warm. Got to be the alcohol responding to something so flattering, and not himself.</p>
<p>"I... uh..." He mumbles something noncommittal and rubs his arm.</p>
<p>"We can even head to my place so you can listen in high-def on the good cans. I have a bunch of stuff I don't put online, it'll all on my computer, so you'd be the only one other than me to hear it. Oh! I've got works in progress I could show you too, maybe? Not just things I've done with your music, I've got lots of originals too. B-But you don't have to waste time on that. It's all your call if you wanna come over!"</p>
<p>Piers fixes him with fresh scrutiny and watches him falter. There's nothing but passion for art in his eyes right now. He's really means to talk about music and nothing else. Well, he intended on going home with someone tonight anyways. This counts. And as much as he wanted to forget about his own content tonight...</p>
<p>
  <em> I'd be stupid to let this slip away, too. </em>
</p>
<p>He shifts his weight and glances around the empty lot. Nobody but teetering drunks staggering out of the club to witness him taking this plunge.</p>
<p>"...I'd like to see what you got, then."</p>
<p>Relief pushes the DJ into straightening up with a blinding smile. He really does have some impressive incisors. "Great! My place is super close, we can walk there! Let's go!"</p>
<p>Before he can get a word out that his bar tab is still open, the man whose name he doesn't even know grabs him by the arm—those hands are huge, grip overlapping itself around his bony wrist—and drags him down the street in long, eager strides.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter: Raihan's got his favorite artist in his house, in his room, in his personal space. This boy is doomed.</p>
<p>EDIT 07-SEP-2020: <a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242">三</a> drew some fanart of <a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242/status/1301594035220410374">DJ Raihan</a> AND <a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242/status/1301598086721011712">Piers at the bar</a> from this chapter!!! Please give it a look, it's amazing!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To Be Indulged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Told you I didn't live far!"</p><p>Raihan juggles his keys around to find the right one, and hastily unlocks the door to his narrow townhouse. He almost drops the keyring twice from how hard his hands are shaking.</p><p>He prides himself on being able to keep a cool head and stay chill whenever he isn't totally swept up in making music or performing (when all bets are off), but how can he stay calm when he's about to bring his actual idol into his home?</p><p>Piers agreed to come with him, to his house.</p><p>Piers, who wants to hear more of his work.</p><p>Piers, whose genius songwriting and musical storytelling and incredible voice had Raihan by the throat the moment he first stumbled upon the artist's stuff years and years ago, back when his content was rough, unpolished, but still diamonds.</p><p>Raihan shoulders the door open, damn thing always sticks, and ducks into his home, heart pounding in his ears as Piers takes that first step over his threshold.</p><p>"Anything I can get you? Water, tea?"</p><p>"Just your music's fine, won't bother you more'n that. Thanks though," Piers says.</p><p>It wouldn't be a bother at all. Raihan would love if he could get Piers anything he wanted. Even if he didn't know the identity of the man before him, he'd still go out of his way to play nice, because bloody hell, look at him.</p><p>He is incredibly hot. Hotter than Raihan ever imagined the singer looking. On the platforms Piers posts music on, there are no pictures of his face, and no social media linked to anything. Even after scouring the internet for some kind of social media presence, Raihan found nothing. Whenever he imagined what his favorite singer might look like, a voice was his only hint. Piers’ voice is sexy enough in its own right despite being a shoddy clue, and now that he's got the whole package to appreciate, it's over for him. This is the nail in his coffin. The beautiful, beautiful nail in his also-beautiful coffin.</p><p>Speaking of nails and nailing...</p><p>He wouldn't be opposed, that's all he's saying. The only problem is, he's fairly certain he'd pass out if that gorgeous face so much as winked at him. Time, he needs time, to gather himself and recover from tonight's events so he can hurry up and be his usual self again. If he embarrasses himself in front of Piers any more than he already has, it'll keep him up at night for the rest of his life.</p><p>"All my stuff is ah, in my bedroom." He nods up the narrow stairwell that takes up half the width of the hall.</p><p>Piers makes a noise of dull interest. "If I didn' know better I'd say this was some elaborate ruse to get in my pants."</p><p>"H-Hahah! No, uh, well, I mean—"</p><p>"Relax, mister jockey, I was jokin'. Which way's your room?"</p><p>The stairs have never felt so short. It's not nearly enough to prepare himself. Piers is about to be in his room. In his creative space, near his bed. Piers is gonna be standing close to where he sleeps at night—shut up, holy shit, he's starting to sound like an obsessive creep or something.</p><p>"Okay, so... Don't judge me."</p><p>Piers arches a thick brow. Does he get them done? He has to get his brows done for them to look that sleek. "For what."</p><p>"It's kinda messy in here, and..." He squeezes the knob. "Yeah, just come in."</p><p>He ducks into his room, sets his bag down, and stands aside, trying to find something to look at that isn't completely embarrassing. Like the shadowbox display case mounted on the wall that houses every CD of Piers' discography. Or some of the posters that flank it, of album artwork, or the actual t-shirt he mounted up too, and god, why did he arrange it all in one spot like that? It totally looks like a freaky shrine.</p><p>Piers zeroes in on it amidst all the other stuff on Raihan's wall. He stares, but doesn't comment right away, which only makes Raihan more antsy. He does his best not to show it. He's supposed to be cool. Cool as a cucumber, relaxed, no big deal that his favorite artist is standing in his room checking out all the fan merchandise.</p><p>"You really do like my stuff, huh..." Piers wanders over to the shadowbox. "Some o' these are ancient..."</p><p>He swallows around the knot in his throat. "Told you I was a fan since the early days. I actually own two of every CD. One for displaying, and the other for actually listening to."</p><p>"You still listen to CDs? Wait, you're the bloke who always orders two of everythin'? You're Raihan?"</p><p>
  <em> He knows my name. Oh my god, it sounds amazing when he says it. </em>
</p><p>"Yup, that's me! You uh, pay attention to names on orders?"</p><p>"Can't help it when they're rare enough. Recurrin' names stick with me and I've been seein' yours since forever ago. Thanks for supportin' my stuff."</p><p>If Raihan had the ability to pause time, he would do it right in this moment, to freeze the tiny smile on Piers' face so he could take a picture of it and save it forever. But since he doesn't have any superpowers, he does his best to commit the moment to memory.</p><p>"I'm a guy who supports what he loves," he says, way smoother than he thought himself capable of. "So, no problem."</p><p>Piers rubs his arm and looks away. Shyness isn't anything he'd have expected from a guy who can sing his soul out. It's kind of... cute. Piers is obviously unused to direct praise. Raihan's itching to smother him in it, but he should hold back. Don't want to overwhelm him or anything.</p><p>Raihan follows the averted gaze to his workstation. Asides from the bed, it's the biggest thing in the room. And by far the most expensive. The desk is gigantic, and holds a massive desktop tower near the wall that's got more rainbow lighting than the nightclub they left. He's got three monitors, all floating and adjustable, and a mechanical keyboard he spent way too much money on because he couldn't resist the aesthetic of it.</p><p>The chair is basically a throne on wheels. He had to shell out crazy money for a decent chair for someone of his height. A piano keyboard is set up nearby for easy playing, all he's gotta do is spin his chair around and bam. All the synthesizers that he didn't take with him for his gig are arranged haphazardly around the rest of the desk's real estate, and there's cords and wires draped basically everywhere.</p><p>To him, it's a little corner of heaven. To anyone else looking at it...</p><p>"How th' hell d'you get any work done in that clutter."</p><p>Yup.</p><p>"I'll show you!" He strides on over and sinks into his chair with a slight rattle. His hands automatically fall over the keyboard to wake his battlestation up. "Okay, so what you heard at the club was a remix of Wet Gunpowder that I prepped for being able to perform live. All my other remixes of your stuff aren't like that, they're still work-in-progress."</p><p>His triple monitor setup lights up. On the far left is his social media feed, minimize that, nothing Piers needs to see there. The center one houses the primary screen of his DAW, and his latest music project is all loaded up in the same state he left it this morning. On the right screen is a clutter of miscellaneous windows, notes on future plans he has, anything that isn't social media or music work, basically. He's got his priorities straight.</p><p>"Surprised an electronic guy like you is so interested in my stuff." The voice is right over his shoulder, which nearly gives him a heart attack.</p><p>Piers is leaning over, peering at his latest project on the center screen, bangs hanging down and almost, almost touching Raihan's shoulder. Not that he'd be able to feel it anyways, since he's not wearing a tank or anything that'd bare his skin.</p><p>"Hey, I've got broad tastes. Just because I make dance music doesn't mean I can't appreciate other stuff."</p><p>Piers hums acknowledgement. "So what's this you've got?"</p><p>"Oh, just something I've been making from scratch! You don't have to bother with it. Here, let me pull up what I've been doing for your album."</p><p>"No need." Piers leans even closer, hair slipping over his shoulder, and Raihan catches the scent of something sweet and minty that makes it very hard to sit still. "Can you tell me about this one?"</p><p>That question clears all other thoughts from his mind as he launches into an explanation of his current project.</p><p>The whole time, Piers listens attentively, asking questions that reveal his legitimate investment. Raihan takes him through the project when asked, chattering about his creative process and decision-making, the sounds and moods he's been going for. A lot of his descriptions are abstract and require a lot of gesticulating to help get the point across, but Piers never once looks lost or confused, even when Raihan says things like "kinda frazzy and claustrophobic, like you're stuck inside a box made of cheap plywood, right? And right here is where I ease that box open and the full sound can escape and really be heard properly. I want it to be a wow moment, you know?"</p><p>It feels so good to talk to someone who's also in the independent music-making business. That person may be in a totally different genre with different methods of production, but still!</p><p>He passes Piers his headphones. The good ones. Alright, all his headphones are good, he's a proud audiophile with a penchant for collecting shiny new things, but these are the best for working in. He's had these open-backs for years. Piers adjusts them on his head as Raihan watches from the corner of his eye, mouse cursor hovering over the play button.</p><p>"Ready?"</p><p>A nod. He hits play.</p><p>Piers listens with furrowed brows and closed eyes, meaning Raihan is free to stare for the minute and thirty-one seconds of track he has built up so far.</p><p>The club was dark and so was the night, and the bad orange lighting on the street meant he couldn't get the best look at the man before him. Here in his room, the lighting's perfect.</p><p>Piers is pale as a ghost, with dark shadows around his eyes accented by smudges of makeup. Must be a club look, same with his outfit. No way does the guy walk around in clothes this tight on a day to day basis. Makes him look like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Piers might even let it, since he looks like he barely sleeps and could use any reason to be horizontal. Could definitely use a nice kip.</p><p>The whole exhausted ghost look suits him. Fits the broody-yet-fierce impression one gets from listening to his music. Kind of funny how someone so tired can scream so passionately into a microphone and shred so hard on a guitar.</p><p>His eyes drift down to Piers' hands. They're thin, mostly knuckle and tendon, pale as the rest of him, but Raihan can still make out the heavy calluses all over his fingers, no doubt from years of strumming and fingering steel strings. Raihan's got pretty soft hands himself. He moisturizes and all that, has a great skincare routine, but he can't deny there's a kind of appeal in those beat-up hands. He wonders how they'd feel on him.</p><p>Black and white hair starts to swing slightly when Piers bobs his head to the music. Hey, he likes it! Raihan bites his own lips to contain his excitement. This night keeps escalating to new heights of incredible. First he met Piers, that would have been enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life, but then he got to take him home and show him his stuff and now Piers is listening to his music and liking it. He must have been a messiah in a previous life or something to rack up enough karma to earn all this.</p><p>Might as well ride this karma wave. He won't go so far as to be clingy, as much as he'd love to, so he needs to figure out how to make the rest of their time together memorable.</p><p>Ah, shit, he hasn't asked Piers a single question about his own work yet, and Raihan would kill for those details!</p><p>His leg bounces as he tries to come up with a good way to switch gears and get Piers talking about his own process. A blunt question might work best, but he doesn't want to be too forward in case the guy's sensitive about his songwriting or something. Not that he gives off that vibe at all. Still, he's not risking anything.</p><p>"I'm seriously impressed, mate." Piers pulls the headphones off with a light shake of his head.</p><p>His thoughts screech to a halt. "Whuh?"</p><p>"All this." Piers gestures at his desk as he sets the headphones down with care. "And that." He points at Raihan's covered forehead. "You're real talented. Never knew so much went into this electronic stuff. Thanks for showin' me, 'ppreciate it."</p><p>The back of his mind suddenly feels very empty.</p><p>He's being praised... by Piers...</p><p>His heart accelerates and he reaches up to adjust his headband, using the motion to hide how hot his face is getting.</p><p>"Y-Yeah? It's crazy different from what you do. I've never played on an instrument that isn't, you know." He awkwardly gestures with his free hand to the keyboard and the synths on his desk. "And I can't sing. Not like you can, at least, you're the talented one. I could never do what you do."</p><p>"Right back at you. All this high-tech stuff is beyond me."</p><p>Inspiration strikes. It's daring, audacious, pushing his luck. Nobody in their right mind would think it worth voicing, but Raihan's nothing if not fearless.</p><p>...When it comes to literally anything but being face to face with people he admires, that is. For all Raihan knows himself to be confident and capable of anything he sets his mind to, it always falls apart the moment he's in front of someone he looks up to. At the last music festival he performed at he blew the entire crowd away, ate up their cheers and screams with a grin on his face, but when he went backstage and saw <em> the </em> Lance waiting for his turn, his cockiness vanished and his knees locked up and he almost said something stupid.</p><p>So how is he supposed to ask Piers if he wants to work together on something? A collaboration would be a dream come true, but he can't think of a way to ask that isn't too blunt or too greasy or too disrespectful of the other artist's time and energy.</p><p>He chuckles with false ease and stares at his screen, a few ideas for how to continue the piece already bouncing around his head. "Sounds like we cover each other's blind spots, then..."</p><p>God, part of the reason he didn't reach out for permission for the remix was because he was positive he'd be turned down. Why would someone so immersed in classic instrumentation, who sings like a siren with a vendetta, let an EDM guy like him put his mitts all over their sacred music, even if Raihan could assure them the results would be mind blowing? Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission sometimes. In the case of his remix, begging worked out just fine.</p><p>Collaborating isn't a thing he can sneakily do solo, though.</p><p>Okay, Raihan. Best to just ask. If it doesn't go well, he can always back out and say sorry. Beg forgiveness.</p><p>"Say..." Piers starts. "I quite like how you work. I'd be open to doin' some joint work with you sometime, if you ever—"</p><p>"Yes." His voice almost cracks. He swallows and keeps his eyes stuck on the screen, aimed at the play/pause button in the program. On the outside he's playing it as cool as he can, but on the inside he's freaking the fuck out.</p><p>"One stipulation, though."</p><p>He'd sell his soul if Piers asked for it right now. "Yeah?"</p><p>"Give me a heads up first whenever you wanna use my stuff for your projects."</p><p>Embarrassment eats at his composure. He's about to say some new excuse when Piers chuckles and straightens up. "So I can give you the files, mate. You can work better with all the instruments 'n vocals and shit separated, yeah?"</p><p>Somewhere amidst his internal screaming, he nods and says a yes, which is returned with a small nod and another flicker of a phantom smile.</p><p>"Right then. I've gotta head out for the night, got a tab to close. If you want, you can give me your number so we can stay in touch."</p><p>He dazedly nods, and takes Piers' phone when it's handed to him. It's an older model, real beat-up, with a cracked screen and scuff marks all over the bezel. The touch screen resists his typing and he has to tap pretty hard to get his keypresses to register, but before long he's got himself set up as a contact.</p><p>It looks too empty with just a name and a number. Would adding an emoji to his name be too much? Probably, but he's gonna do it anyways. Just a little dragon, a nod to his DJ stage name. And why stop there?</p><p>Raihan selects the option to take a contact photo on the spot, and holds Piers' phone up to his ideal angle and snaps a quick selfie. Camera's crappy on this thing, but he always looks good no matter what, so it's fine.</p><p>The familiarity of taking a selfie kicks him back into gear.</p><p>"There you go! Hit me up anytime. I'm always quick to answer since my phone's always in reach, but if it's you I'll get on it instantly, I promise."</p><p>Piers takes his phone back with a minuscule exhale of humor. "No rush, mate. I don't mind waitin' a few minutes at most."</p><p>He surges to his feet when he realizes Piers is turning to leave. This felt too fast, but he can't keep the guy here all night, as much as he'd love that. To talk music, of course. Yeah.</p><p>"Wait, wait, before you go, uh..."</p><p>Where's something he can... there! He snatches a t-shirt from where it lays folded on his bed, and digs around his desk for a permanent marker.</p><p>When he presents the two items, face burning but heart set on doing this even if it's embarrassing, Piers only stares.</p><p>"You... want me to sign that?" He asks, like he can't believe anyone would want his signature.</p><p>Raihan nods with an encouraging smile, looking away when a bony hand reaches up and tugs the marker free. He wishes he held the marker deeper in his grip to increase the chances of Piers brushing against skin to get it.</p><p>"First time doin' this..." Piers murmurs, and pops the cap off. "Mind holdin' that up for me?"</p><p>"Oh, uh, like this?" He shakes the shirt loose and holds it up in front of his chest. It's a generic grey tee, something he wears when going on his morning runs. After this he's never going to exercise in it again. He'll want to frame it.</p><p>"Perfect." Piers steps closer and oh, <em> oh, </em> this was his plan.</p><p>Raihan stares straight across the room, right over Piers' head, as a firm touch smooths the shirt flat against his chest. There's no way Piers doesn't feel how powerfully his heart is thumping right now, despite a shirt, hoodie, and another shirt impeding the beat.</p><p>"Right here's good, I s'ppose..."</p><p>The marker drags across fabric over the left side of his chest. Over his hard-pounding heart. He does his best to trace the shape of it in his mind with every slow stroke. Hard to tell if Piers is taking his time on purpose, or if he doesn't have the muscle memory needed to whip autographs out in half a second like Raihan can.</p><p>"There ye are. Thanks for bein' a nice hard surface." Piers glances up at him with those unfairly pretty eyes. From this close, Raihan gets a good view of thick eyelashes and he can't quite tell if it's his imagination that makes them flutter when Piers blinks. Raihan's blood is buzzing, body suddenly too warm for his hoodie.</p><p>Marker and hand withdraw and take Raihan's breath with them. He slumps slightly and hides it by turning to set the shirt back over his bed. It's a really nice-looking autograph. This shirt just shot up the ranks of being his most important possession.</p><p>"Thanks," he rasps. "I'll walk you down."</p><p>"Proper gentleman, ain't ya." That teasing smirk goes right to his dick.</p><p>Holy shit, get it together. Soon as Piers is out, he'll be able to take care of things.</p><p>Raihan leads the way down the stairs, down the narrow front hall, and stands aside after jerking his front door open.</p><p>"Ta, then."</p><p>And Piers is gone.</p><p>As soon as the door is shut tight, Raihan's back is pressed against the heavy wood and his hand is down his loose shorts.</p><p>It's not fair that Piers has a voice <em> and </em> a face like a rebel angel. His charisma was always apparent through his singing, and Raihan always figured he was insanely sexy, but this was unfairly beyond what his imagination could supply, exceeding every cautious expectation he allowed himself to construct. And he gets to collaborate with the guy? Have Piers in his room again? Sitting next to him, merging creative processes, getting to know each other...</p><p>The guilt only buzzes for a second before he swats it away. This is for the sake of his sanity. Just a quick, quiet jerk-off on the spot to reset himself. He just needs to get this out of his system.</p><p>Piers' pretty eyes, looking up at him, this time silently begging for Raihan to touch him... Those eyes are <em> so </em>pretty, he almost wishes he specialized in classical music with lyrics and shit so he could write some kind of tribute to them. Piers' voice, which has a pleasant tired drone to it when he's speaking normally, saying dirty things about everything he wants to do to him. He'd love to be at this man's mercy.</p><p>He'd also love to spread those legs wide open, play with that tiny ass, hold his hips in place and eat him out, make him writhe and cry and say his name, say <em> his </em> name, <em> say his— </em></p><p>"Raihan?"</p><p>His cock twitches in his hand and he freezes. Piers hasn't left the porch yet. He hopes to god that he doesn't have to open this door again. He could stay quiet and make Piers think he left already, it'd be reasonable, but he can't not answer when his name is called.</p><p>He swallows, steadies his voice and lightens it up all casual. "Yeah?"</p><p>A pause, not dissimilar to the way he likes to leave a beat drop hanging.</p><p>"...Thanks." Wait, for what? "I'll text you when 'm ready. See you later."</p><p>
  <em> He wants to see me again. </em>
</p><p>Raihan holds back a groan and keeps his hand still until he's absolutely certain Piers has walked away. Heeled boots tap the concrete stairs one by one until he's truly gone.</p><p>That was dangerous, but the close call has his blood racing that much faster. He sighs and tilts his head back until it thunks against the top of the door, cushioned by his headband, and resumes working his hand, slower this time.</p><p>What was Piers thanking him for...? All he did was fanboy and talk Piers' ears off and embarrass himself a couple times. Maybe it was for praising his stuff? Asking for that autograph?</p><p>God, it kind of aches to think about someone he admires so much being so unused to praise. Piers deserves all of it. All the attention, all the admiration. And Raihan can give it to him. He wants to lavish Piers in praise, spoil him, tell him all the things his music makes him feel...</p><p>All those old fantasies, where Piers was just a voice and a faceless body, or where Raihan was blindfolded or up against a wall and not allowed to turn around to see who was touching him, now have their most important missing piece filled in, and each are clamoring to be played now that they have it.</p><p>He's not just kissing a vague idea of a person anymore. He's kissing the smirk off Piers' tired face. He's running his hands down a reedy body, gripping a waist that belongs on a magazine, running his fingers through long, silky hair that smells like mint and flowers, and praising him, putting a blush on that pale face and making him feel loved and adored and <em> cherished. </em></p><p>Raihan's phone is a dead weight in his pocket as he brings himself to an embarrassingly quick climax, grunting as he spills into his hand and makes a mess of his underwear despite trying to catch it all in his hand.</p><p>Jesus. What's wrong with him.</p><p>"Gotta be more careful, shit..." He mutters and withdraws his sticky hand with a grimace. "Don't wanna scare him away..."</p><p>He's well aware that he can have an obsessive personality sometimes. In some areas it gives him an edge, especially creatively, but when it comes to dealing with people, he knows he can be a bit much. The last thing he wants is to push Piers away. He's got to keep himself under control, especially the part of him that's raging to push the smaller man against the wall and kiss him senseless.</p><p>All he can do for now is hope that Piers reaches out to him as promised. Ball's not in his court right now and who knows when it'll come back.</p><p>Just to be safe, he one-handedly turns the volume of his phone all the way up. It'll stay maxed out until he gets that text.</p><p>
  <span>With that, Raihan ascends the stairs three at a time with a new mission in mind: taking a shower. It's long past midnight, and DJing always gets him sweaty (he cringes when he realizes Piers was standing close the whole time despite Raihan being gross after his set), and there's nothing like getting under hot water after a wank to clear one's head. He needs that more than anything else right now.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And with this, they've fully met!</p><p>Next chapter: Collab time + getting to know each other + feelings???</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. To Be Seen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So there's no longer 4 chapters total. That number has increased to 8. I had to split up the original third chapter into 5 (!) parts, and here's the first of them!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One week.</p>
<p>One whole week of pulling his phone out, checking the newest contact, and putting it back in his pocket.</p>
<p>That's how long it takes Piers to get over himself and reach out to Raihan already.</p>
<p>No one can blame him for taking this long, given everything he's learned since that fateful night out.</p>
<p>When he got back to the club to close his bar tab, he asked the bartender if he knew the stage name of the DJ who played that rock song, and got a pseudonym that stuck in his head easy enough to carry all the way home. Soon as he got back to his dingy two-bedroom, he collapsed on the bed and ran a search on the name.</p>
<p>It returned some minimalist, colorless webpage that felt... off, somehow. Not at all fitting of the vibrant man he met at the club. So he ran a search on Raihan's real name instead, and that returned far more interesting results.</p>
<p>Turns out?</p>
<p>Raihan's bloody famous.</p>
<p>The stage name he operated under at the club wasn't his best-known one, nor did it show up once amongst the countless search results. What did come back was social media after social media, hell, even the image results returned scores of photos of the man. Flawless selfies and grainy concert shots, promotional imagery and posters.</p>
<p>The numbers on Raihan's numerous social media accounts boggled Piers' eyes out of his head, as did the list of big-time gigs the man's played at. Music festival after music festival (he didn't know electronic music even had festivals), with Raihan's name on the same announcement posts as artists even Piers can recognize.</p>
<p>That liar said he was a small-time hobbyist when they first met. He should have questioned the truth of that statement the moment he saw all the equipment in Raihan's room. None of that was casual at all.</p>
<p>Which begs the question: why the hell was Raihan playing at a random-arse nightclub under a secret alias? Surely not for the cash. All of Raihan's tech and accessories at his townhouse screamed <em> cut me and watch me bleed money</em>. Maybe the DJ just felt like dipping into a smaller scene for the nostalgia, or for the hell of it. Must be quite the privilege, being able to step down into the minor leagues whenever the fancy strikes...</p>
<p>Piers crushes his jealousy away. Because that's all it is, jealousy. He can't fault Raihan for his success, not when he of all people understands how fickle the earning of fame can be. Hard to not feel a little frustrated though... Long as he doesn't act on it, it's okay to feel. He should be grateful, more than anything, that such a big shot wants to play around with him. Likes his stuff. Finds his attention valuable, amidst the countless other people Raihan could and <em> does </em> get attention from too.</p>
<p>(The number of people drooling over Raihan's thirst trap selfies raised both his brows. Not that he could blame them for being affected, but did they have to be so shameless in public comment threads?)</p>
<p>He couldn't bring himself to check out any of the posted or tagged clips of what Raihan looks like up on the big stages, surrounded by lights with a sea of cheering people surging to get as close to him as possible. A few videos reside in his bookmarks for later viewing, once he's either brave enough or feeling self-destructive enough to watch.</p>
<p>He did check out more of Raihan's music. It's as dubstep-y as he expected, but... really good. Really, really good. The man's got a great knack for making elegant melodies, and the synth solos in some of his bridges are still stuck in Piers' head. And Raihan's made sounds he's never imagined existing. Some of the things he's twisted together electronically were so foreign that Piers' brain went blank and he didn't know if he wanted the volume cranked up or turned down.</p>
<p>The man's got everything. Talent, skill, passion, money, fame and fans.</p>
<p>And he still wants to work with a nobody like Piers. Maybe a week was too long to wait, and by now Raihan's realized that he has better things to do than play around with a struggling artist who's so far down the ladder from him.</p>
<p>More than once, Piers pondered deleting the contact and saving himself the worry and Raihan the trouble.</p>
<p>But. Throughout all the doubts and insistent insecurities whirling around his head all week, one thing keeps his latest little fire burning, a fire the DJ lit soon after they met.</p>
<p>That kindling is the memory of Raihan asking for his autograph. The genuine excitement of getting his signature. Up close, it was impossible to mistake Raihan's feelings for anything other than what they were, genuine, and not even Piers' strongest insecurities can blur that truth. Raihan really does admire him as an artist, and really wants to work with him, and has probably been waiting on a text ever since Piers left his place.</p>
<p>It's on that final thought that Piers finally texted the damn number.</p>
<p>
Raihan's contact picture, handsome and smiling, stares at him as he taps out his very first text.
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>hey</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>this is piers</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>
True to Raihan's word, less than ten seconds later the "typing..." bubble shoots up. Piers barely has time to bite his thumbnail.
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Hey! Great hearing from you! How's your day been? Hope you had a good night after you left my place. Did you get home safe?</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>
Chatty over text too, ain't he. Fast typer.
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>was alright</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>and yeah, got home fine</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>That's good to hear. I was wondering about it for the rest of the night haha</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>right</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>😊</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>so....sorry for takin a while to get back to ya</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>No worries, I wasn't expecting an immediate text. I would have understood if you didn't want to get in touch at all!</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>
He winces at that. He didn't come off as that unfriendly, did he...?
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>so... still up for a collab then? if you changed your mind its no trouble</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Of course I want to work with you!! It's a dream come true, honest</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>
He taps the edge of his phone and stares at that last message for a good minute before carrying on, heart picking up in pace.
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>if you say so</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>wanna hash shit out over text or...</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>I know a place with good coffee, if you're cool with meeting in person! They serve lunch too if you haven't eaten yet. Promise their food is top notch</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>
He was sold on "good coffee." Getting something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea, either. It's what, one o'clock already, and he's barely had a bite. Weekends are mostly for songwriting, music practice, and recording. He needs every spare minute he can get since his day job eats up his hours and energy. What's a missed meal here and there?
</p>
<p>
Raihan probably wouldn't like to hear that, though.
<span class="hide"><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>wouldnt be opposed to lunch</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>wheres it at?</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/>
</span>

</p>
<p>The address Raihan sends him, along with a time and a cheery "See you there!" is to a cafe so posh that Piers' eyes would have glossed right over it had he passed it on the street. If it were anyone else, he'd ask to change the place, but since Raihan was so hyped about this cafe he can't bring himself to belatedly object. He'll just have to suck it up and only order coffee.</p>
<p>Piers pushes away from his secondhand desk and rises from his battered chair. Better put real clothes on if they're gonna meet at a place like that. Not that he'd put less effort in even if they were to meet at one of Piers' preferred holes in the wall. For the one person who's told him to his face his music is worth something, he wants to look his best.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>It's not a date. That's what he tells himself.</p>
<p>Raihan meets him outside, looking far more relaxed than the first time they met, and happily sweeps him inside where a table is already waiting.</p>
<p>This place really is posh. More window than wall, hanging plants everywhere. Even the little flowers in the watered glass holder on their table are real. He couldn't resist fingering a leaf to double check.</p>
<p>Now that he's sat down, he can't ignore how Raihan is looking at him. It's a pleasant look, and Piers is suspicious right off the bat.</p>
<p>"What," he challenges, and sinks further down the chair.</p>
<p>"Nothing. You look great, that's all." Raihan folds his hands under his chin and gives Piers another smiling look-over. "I'm glad you came out with me."</p>
<p>This is not a date.</p>
<p>"Er... no problem. You too." He curses himself. "You look good too, I mean."</p>
<p>Raihan's not wearing the hoodie and headband he had on at the club. Based on what Piers saw on the man's social media, those two items of clothing are part of his signature DJ look, so it's not surprising that Raihan dressed down—or would it be dressed up?—for this.</p>
<p>He's very handsome. Certainly got more refined fashion taste that Piers has. If Raihan weren't in the music-making business he'd assume the man was a model or something, with those looks and that height. Not to mention that smile.</p>
<p>"Why don't we order before we really start chatting? I don't know about you but I'm starving!" Raihan cheerily hands him a one-page menu and oh bloody hell, they're charging this much for a single butty? Robbery is what this is...</p>
<p>When the waitress stops by to take their order, Raihan rattles his off with such ease that he's either a regular or he's just that good at seamlessly fitting into new places.</p>
<p>"And what would you like, sir?"</p>
<p>He shifts in his seat and sets his menu back on the table. "Just a black coffee, thank you."</p>
<p>Raihan makes a disbelieving sound and nudges the menu back towards him. "I thought you wanted lunch."</p>
<p>
  <em> Way to point me out in front of the waitstaff. </em>
</p>
<p>"'M not that hungry, turns out."</p>
<p>The dejected worry on Raihan's face could squeeze sympathy from a stone. "I'm sorry to hear that... I picked this place specially because I thought you'd like it."</p>
<p>Looks like the stone here is his heart. Dammit, he really has no choice, then. His hand slaps the menu a little too hard as he pulls it towards himself to read.</p>
<p>Their waitress stands by while Piers gives it a quick skim, and with an internal sigh of mourning for his timeline on saving for a new amp, orders some brunch-sounding thing at random.</p>
<p>"Excellent choice! One check or two?" She chirps.</p>
<p>"T—"</p>
<p>"One! I've got it, don't worry."</p>
<p>This is... not a date?</p>
<p>Eyes narrowed, Piers slouches in his seat and folds his arms over his chest, one hand swinging up to his choker. "What's the big idea here."</p>
<p>"It's a habit of mine to cover first lunch," Raihan says with a disarming smile, and wait, first as in, he wants there to be more?</p>
<p>Piers tucks that detail away for later scrutiny, because he could always use more fuel for his stress in the middle of the night.</p>
<p>"Well, we ordered, and I can tell your chin's been achin' to wag. What've you got."</p>
<p>"There's things I want to ask you, if that's alright!"</p>
<p>Finally, business talk. No more of this chatty nonsense. "Fire away," he sighs, turning to stare out the nearest window-wall.</p>
<p>Raihan launches into conversation, but it's not regarding the collaboration. It's all music-related personal questions.</p>
<p>What's his musical history ("What?"), why did he get into music ("'S what I like doin', I s'ppose"), what's his favorite genre ("You've listened to my stuff, you tell me"), favorite instrument ("Can't decide..."), does he have any formal training ("Like I could afford that"), on and on...</p>
<p>It's all stuff that's easy enough to answer, and arguably relevant to working together, but Piers can't shake the feeling that Raihan's trying to know him as a person rather than gain insight on what kind of artist he is. Which... makes sense, given that Raihan's such a fan of his. Still weird to think of him like that. A fan...</p>
<p>The laser-beam attention is a bit off-putting, but it's also rather nice, he admits it. Nobody ever pays him much mind unless it's someone he's sharing a bed with, and even then it's only because they're chasing pleasure using him. Which is fine by him, since he uses them the same way. Nothing given, nothing earned, no hard feelings.</p>
<p>Not even their food arriving slows the questions down. Raihan hangs on every word of his answers, like the offhand details Piers mumbles out are the secrets to eternal life or something.</p>
<p>"You should eat before it gets cold," Piers says. "Would be a shame to let that fancy whatever go unappreciated."</p>
<p>"I want to see how you like yours first!"</p>
<p>Raihan's paying, so Piers is obligated to indulge...</p>
<p>He self-consciously unwraps his silverware (cloth napkins, how posh) and cuts a corner of the eggy thing free with his fork. Raihan's on the edge of his damn seat waiting for him to take a bite.</p>
<p>"Oh..." His eyes widen. "It's well good. I like it."</p>
<p>Raihan both relaxes <em> and </em> sits up taller, with a genuine smile that has Piers staring hard at his plate. "Glad to hear! You can eat in peace, I won't bombard you with any more questions. Thanks for indulging me in the first place."</p>
<p>He looks so happy, from something so small.</p>
<p>"No problem..."</p>
<p>Throughout the rest of their meal, Piers can't bring himself to ask about Raihan's fame and popularity. He manages to finish the whole plate. Usually he isn't able to eat this much in one sitting.</p>
<p>Raihan's pleased look at his empty plate does not go amiss.</p>
<p>Soon as the bill is laid down, Piers makes a grab for it. He's not quick enough to reach in time. Raihan grabs his wrist right in one hand and snatches the receipt with the other, looking smug.</p>
<p>"No you don't." Raihan waves the paper, conveniently hiding the price side from Piers' view. "I'm covering it."</p>
<p>He jerks his hand free and digs out his wallet. "Least let me pay you back—"</p>
<p>"What part of cover do you not get? Don't worry about it. I want to treat you, it's my pleasure."</p>
<p>Some line about gift horses trots through his head and curls his lip. "Fine." Then, after a brief internal struggle, he tacks on a stiff "thank you."</p>
<p>His leg bounces under the table while Raihan pulls a shiny card out and folds the receipt around it. "Like I said, my pleasure," he warmly says.</p>
<p>Strange to hear such a common courtesy throwaway phrase spoken with such genuineness...</p>
<p>"So when are we gonna get to the actual collab talk?" He asks, stress pushing for impatience. "Lunch was nice, but we didn't come here just to chat about ourselves."</p>
<p>"Right! I was thinking we could meet at my place later today to start brainstorming, if you're free in the evening."</p>
<p>Piers' mouth falls open at the audacity. "Why'd you have us meet here if you were gonna take us to your place anyways? Coulda saved the time and skipped all this." He gestures at the table.</p>
<p>"Aw, is getting to know your partner not important before you try anything together?" Raihan leans closer, not shying away from his objections one bit. "The more I get to know you, the better I can work with you."</p>
<p>His mouth opens, then closes. Raihan raises a valid point.</p>
<p>"...Seven sound good?" He says, giving up.</p>
<p>Raihan nods and smiles with just enough teeth that Piers notices his long incisor. "It's a date, then."</p>
<p>He stops thinking.</p>
<p>"Y-Yeah. Cheers."</p>
<p>Piers' chair scrapes the floor as he rises to his feet, and the bell on the restaurant door jingles over his head soon after.</p>
<p>Awfully rude of him to leave so abruptly, but the heat looming behind his face was a marked threat that had to be addressed by escaping as soon as possible.</p>
<p>He hopes Raihan didn't see it.</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Piers has never shown up early for anything in his life, but here he is, on Raihan's doorstep at three minutes 'til, contemplating if he should knock or wait until his phone shows the hour.</p>
<p>It's the thought of any neighbors watching him stand here that lifts his hand to the door.</p>
<p>One knock. The door jerks open. Piers startles back a tiny step.</p>
<p>"You're early!"</p>
<p>"You were waitin'?" Falls out of his mouth.</p>
<p>Raihan drags the door open and gestures for him to come in. Piers shuffles inside and casts the man a furtive look as he passes. Raihan's in a different hoodie than before, some ratty university memorabilia. Did he go to Hammerlocke?</p>
<p>"Couldn't help it. I've been excited all day for this. Come on, come upstairs! I cleaned up my room some. And let me take that for you."</p>
<p>Piers tightens his grip on the strap of his shoulder bag. "No need to be so hospitable. Let's just... get to it."</p>
<p>Raihan's long legs take the stairs three at a time with barely a break in stride. Tall bastard.</p>
<p>True to his word, the room is a lot tidier than Piers saw it last. The bed is neatly made, all the clothes are off the floor, and the desk has been organized to be slightly less chaotic than it used to be. Piers feels a twinge of guilt at that; he didn't want Raihan to go so far as adjust his creative space for his sake.</p>
<p>"I brought a chair up for you just in case, but you can get comfortable anywhere." Raihan gestures to a tall-backed chair that must have come from a dining area downstairs, wherever that is. It's right next to his desk, and the thought of sitting directly next to Raihan while they talk is... a bit much. He might get a sunburn or something, being exposed to such high energy so close up.</p>
<p>He sets his bag on the large bed and perches next to it. Pleasantly firm mattress, soft covers. He wonders how the hell Raihan got this massive bed up those narrow stairs when he first bought it.</p>
<p>Raihan drops into his own desk chair and spins to face him, legs stuck straight out and crossed at the ankle. His socks are mismatched, Piers notices. One's got duckies on it and the other has the dragon mascot of the Hammerlocke Knights across the arch. Definitely a college boy.</p>
<p>"So! You and me, huh?"</p>
<p>He jerks his head up. "...What about us?"</p>
<p>"I can't believe we're really going to work together. It doesn't feel real yet. I've hardly gotten over last week!" Raihan gushes.</p>
<p>He stiffly nods, and tugs his bag halfway into his lap. "Can hardly believe I'm here either..."</p>
<p>Raihan tilts his head at that and Piers clears his throat.</p>
<p>"S-So, any thoughts on what kind of thing you wanna make? Another remix?"</p>
<p>The shop talk works to get Raihan's attention. "I was hoping we could spin up something original together. Get a real mesh of what we can both do and see what happens! It'll be kickarse, I guarantee it."</p>
<p>The enthusiasm is infectious, and Piers' immune system has always been on the weak side.</p>
<p>"Ain't opposed to makin' somethin' from scratch. I noticed your songs don't really use much lyric other'n voice samples, so—"</p>
<p>A gasp cuts him off. He stares.</p>
<p>"You've... listened to my stuff?"</p>
<p>"...Yes?" He shifts on the edge of the bed. "Checked it out all last week after meetin' ya. I really like it. Ain't what I usually listen to, but... 's real good." He clears his throat. "Wasn't able to listen to all of it, you've got a ton of music out there, but... yeah."</p>
<p>Piers is just one listener out of a million, but with the way Raihan's looking at him, you'd think he was Raihan's very first fan.</p>
<p>He could use this opportunity to segue into Raihan's success in the industry. He won't. Wouldn't feel right.</p>
<p>"Anyways..." He clears his throat and busies himself with opening his bag and fishing a notebook and pen out of it. "You don't use full lyrics, so I was wonderin' if maybe you'd want to try? I could write somethin' for it. Dunno what sort of thing you'd want me to sing about."</p>
<p>That snaps Raihan out of his starry-eyed stupor. "Right, yeah! You have an incredible voice, of course we should show that off. It wouldn't feel right to make a song with you and not have you sing for it. As for lyrics, like you said, I'm no songwriter. Not for words, at least." He laughs. "I can leave all that to you. Everything you write is genius, I love the poetry of it."</p>
<p>He lets his bangs hang forward to obscure as much of his face from Raihan's view as possible. Piers takes pride in his singing ability and ability to put words together, but having those skills praised to his face makes him feel like an awkward teenager again.</p>
<p>"You don't think it's too... I dunno, serious? For your genre?" He flips the notebook open and flips past page after page of scribbled lines and crossed-out ideas and shitty doodles until he comes to something fresh and empty.</p>
<p>"Forget about genre, mate, we're here to make something as awesome as possible."</p>
<p>The way Raihan gushes is inspiring. A droplet of excitement lands on him straight on, and a tiny smile ripples over his face.</p>
<p>"Yeah... Yeah, you're right. Nothin' stoppin' us from doin' whatever we want."</p>
<p>"That's the spirit. So, drawing board, right?" Raihan points straight up at his ceiling with a grin. "Let's throw everything we've got up there and see what sticks."</p>
<p>Piers is used to doing all his brainstorming by himself, shut up in his room with his cat nearby or lurking in some dim corner of a cafe whose sandwiches don't cost two meals' worth of budget. Someone else witnessing his process is making him think hard about how he usually does this. He doesn't want to waste Raihan's time with his usual meticulous pace...</p>
<p>"First thing's first, if we wanna have lyrics, we gotta pick what we want the song to say. Need a good message. Somethin' meaningful..."</p>
<p>The end of his pen finds itself between his teeth as he ponders the blank page. He could use this opportunity to sing something he's never sung before. A whole new message for a whole new type of song. Or maybe he could keep it classic, and let Raihan's touch provide all the novelty.</p>
<p>"Just something to consider here. Does it have to have an intended message? We can make something that sounds good and let people interpret it however they want, that's what I do."</p>
<p>"Music is communication. I don't wanna make a song that's got nothin' to say," he replies without looking up.</p>
<p>The resulting silence gets his attention well enough.</p>
<p>Raihan's mouth is twisted in skeptical contemplation. "Just picking your brain here... what about a song that says, 'you should have a good time while listening to me,' is that enough?"</p>
<p>"We wouldn't need words if that's all we wanted to say. Your music says that enough without anythin' I could add."</p>
<p>And what's the point of collaborating if they do things that Raihan could do on his own, without him. Call it selfish, but Piers doesn't want to do anything where he's just... extra parts, to Raihan's own talents. He needs to make his own mark on this.</p>
<p>A chuckle winds around his thoughts and slows them down. "Alright, alright, I'll leave the lyrics to you. I want to figure out a mood at least, so I have some inspiration to work off of. Can't we start with that?"</p>
<p>So he's that type of artist. Working off a mood, a feeling, letting the abstract be his muse. Now he understands. He didn't realize he was holding Raihan's brainstorming back. Off to a stellar start already, isn't he.</p>
<p>He sighs through his nose and draws a spiral onto the corner of the page. "Yeah. Sorry. Mood first, sure."</p>
<p>...He's drawing a blank. Goddammit. He's horrible at this.</p>
<p>"Do you do things a different way?" Raihan asks.</p>
<p>He looks up in surprise. "Oh, er... sort of." He taps the end of his pen onto paper. "I start out with the message I wanna send, and figure out how I wanna deliver it after that. Like, cliche example, if I know I wanna say 'I miss you,' the message changes meaning, right, if you say it angry, versus sayin' it sad. And figurin' that delivery out is what's hardest fer me. Message first, mood later, is how I do it."</p>
<p>Understanding lights across Raihan's face. "I get it! I'm the opposite, I pick a vibe first and see what I can do to best push that feeling. Doesn't really matter what the contents are, as long as I can get that mood across. I'm not picky about what message gets carried along the way, it makes for good surprises!"</p>
<p>Piers recrosses his ankles and picks at the edge of his notebook. He could never work like that. It's too vague and aimless, leaves too many options open right out the gate. He wouldn't know where to start. Seems to work perfectly fine for Raihan, though, and look how successful he is. Maybe he could give it a shot...?</p>
<p>"...Which way should we start thinkin' about this, then? Your way or mine?" He tests.</p>
<p>Raihan's mouth compresses slightly upwards while he thinks. Not quite a pout, but it still makes his lips look quite plump and plush and bloody hell, what is he thinking. Stop that.</p>
<p>"Let's try yours. I'm pretty flexible, so if you've got an idea for lyrics, maybe I can help pick the mood?"</p>
<p>"Y-Yeah. Sounds good." Raihan's concession to his method shouldn't have hit him like that. Shouldn't have been a surprise. They're just doing typical collaboration stuff, that's all. He needs to stop over-analyzing everything and put that energy towards coming up with actual ideas.</p>
<p>
  <em> You're in the right to go a little bonkers over this. Just a little. This is new, after all. Can't deny that everything about this is special. </em>
</p>
<p>Very special.</p>
<p>He has to make this worth Raihan's while. Can't disappoint him and lose the admiration of the one person who truly thinks his stuff is worth admiring.</p>
<p>Ideas, ideas, lyric ideas... He needs something good... Something impressive, something deep...</p>
<p>"...Love song?" Raihan offers.</p>
<p>Piers snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, hate that shite. I ain't good at all that optimistic fluffy stuff."</p>
<p>"Aw, really? I think you could write a great love song. A real heartbreaker."</p>
<p>...Well. If Raihan thinks so, then... no, the hell is he thinking? He's Piers, he's not about to compromise his creative vision for himself over one person's flattery. He's better than that.</p>
<p>"No. Too cliche for me." He writes down the word 'LOVE' on the bottom corner of the paper and crosses it out viciously. There. That felt good.</p>
<p>"Hey, things become cliche because they're popular, and love songs are popular for a reason!"</p>
<p>Spoken like someone who knows what popularity feels like. "I ain't writin' a bloody love song, alright?"</p>
<p>Raihan laughs and sits up straighter in his chair. "Fine, fine. Was mostly joking."</p>
<p>...Mostly?</p>
<p>Whatever.</p>
<p>"That aside... I don't wanna do anythin' too similar to what I've already written." He pulls his pen out from between his teeth and starts doodling a series of loops, just to get something else onto the paper even if it's meaningless scribble drivel. "Long as it's nothin' sappy, I'm open to suggestions..."</p>
<p>The chair rolls across the floor, closer. Those mismatched ducky dragon socks are in his peripherals, now.</p>
<p>"What about a power anthem sort of thing? Optimistic rebellion?"</p>
<p>"Mmh..."</p>
<p>He scrawls down a few of those words. Some turn into phrases, nothing too inspiring.</p>
<p>"Oh! We could do like, a fuck-you song to something comically specific? Ah, wait, you do really well with actual serious topics. Won't ask you to change it up too much. Let's see..."</p>
<p>Raihan's having more luck coming up with things than he is. This is supposed to be his domain and he's got nothing to show for it yet. He crosses out a few lines, and goes back to circle a few words that are promising enough to keep in consideration.</p>
<p>Maybe he's being too picky. Too strict. He's always held himself to a high standard when it comes to creating things, but maybe that's holding them back. Maybe it's held him back, with his own creations.</p>
<p>Piers grimaces around the end of his pen.</p>
<p>Is that why Raihan's so much more successful? Because his creativity flows so much more easily, and he embraces everything that comes out of it instead of scrutinizing and shredding everything that isn't good enough out the gate?</p>
<p>Working with Raihan might teach him something, and an illogical part of him hates that. If he has things to learn, that means he isn't good enough as he is. If Raihan can teach him things, it means Raihan's the better of them. Isn't he, though? Raihan's the one who 'made it.' He's got the fans, the numbers, the gigs to show for it. People like his stuff and they like it for a reason, because it's amazing content.</p>
<p>Another nasty thought sneaks into his head. What if Raihan's contributions result in a song that's better than anything Piers could do on his own? That would prove it, wouldn't it. That it really is his own fault his music hasn't taken off. That he's lacking, and needs someone else to pick up the slack for him.</p>
<p>His teeth dent into the end of his pen.</p>
<p>He's being ridiculous. Any sane person would be salivating for the chance to work with a more popular artist and learn something from it, but Piers and his damnable pride would only resent it. He wants to be good in his own right, without help.</p>
<p>
  <em> But you'll never be good enough on your own. You know this. Stop digging your heels in and accept it already. Quit being stubborn, this is an opportunity, so don't waste it and come up with some bloody lyrics already— </em>
</p>
<p>"On second thought, how about we take a break?" Raihan's voice breaks into his thoughts. "No need to figure everything out in one day."</p>
<p>A break? They've hardly done anything at all. Piers hasn't done anything, at any rate.</p>
<p>"No, it's fine, I can keep goin'."</p>
<p>He senses Raihan's staring and refuses to look up.</p>
<p>"...No offense, but I can see you're stressing for some reason. You can relax, there's no rush," he gently says.</p>
<p>Piers' shoulders relax against his will. Something about that tone just... ugh, what was that? He shouldn't let other people affect his mood so much, that's dangerous. The way Raihan can slip under his guard so much is dangerous. His notebook creaks slightly, and he loosens his grip. He'll need to be more careful.</p>
<p>Raihan stands out of his chair and Piers rises too. To walk away. He sets his notebook and pen on the bed and pretends that he just happened to decide to pace around a bit, instead of wanting to avoid whatever the other man planned on doing by getting up and stepping closer like that.</p>
<p>"Break, right. Sounds nice." Unnatural, much?</p>
<p>"Chill as needed," Raihan cheerily confirms, and walks his chair back to his desk to focus on his computer.</p>
<p>The lack of attention helps Piers relax.</p>
<p>He drifts around the room, on one side of the horseshoe of open space around Raihan's large bed, and forcibly sticks his attention on everything on the walls. Lots of posters. Some are from movies (Raihan seems to like vintage action flicks) and even more are music merch of concerts long past (of all types of artists and genres). There's a few lanyards hung up here and there, with passes on them. Backstage, VIP. Creator's pass.</p>
<p>On the opposite side of the room, the corner where all his own merch is displayed stares at him. He notes the lack of signed t-shirt and wonders where Raihan put it. Kept somewhere safe, maybe? Or perhaps it's in his drawers, to be worn in the day to day.</p>
<p>The reminder of the autograph, that Raihan likes him enough to have asked for it, spurs some of his bravery back.</p>
<p>He wanders over to Raihan's desk. The amount of LED lights on his computer, keyboard, and mouse are a bit obnoxious in his opinion, but to each his own.</p>
<p>Raihan doesn't show any sign of being bothered by his presence nearby. Piers bites his lip unseen and decides to try and make conversation. Salvage his socializing a bit.</p>
<p>"What's this thing?" He lifts a device up that's the size of a computer keyboard without the numpad. Some sort of synth, loaded with soft buttons and few dials and strangely-stylized piano keys.</p>
<p>Raihan lights up and abandons what he was doing to focus back on him. Piers forces his legs to stay still and not take him a step back under the force of it.</p>
<p>"That's an OP-1! It's a great synth, got some real fun tools packed into it. You could probably make some sick stuff if you played with it for a bit. They're totally worth the price, in my opinion."</p>
<p>He turns the little thing over in his hands. "Doubt I'd be open to droppin' a few hundred on one of these things just to play around..."</p>
<p>Raihan makes a nervous sort of laugh and busies himself with dragging things around on his computer screens.</p>
<p>Piers' hands still, and he very gently sets the synth back on the desk.</p>
<p>"How much."</p>
<p>"Nothing too out of line. Maybe like..." Raihan mumbles a number under his breath, one that's too many syllables for Piers to let it drop.</p>
<p>"Sorry, what was that?" He steps up closer, leaning down to better see Raihan's face. His bangs slip and tickle the exposed bit of neck within the hoodie's loose confines.  "Didn't quite catch that price, mate."</p>
<p>Raihan hunches in his chair and chuckles in a rather high pitch. "Thirteen-hundred...?"</p>
<p>He straightens up in bewilderment. He's glad he put the thing down before hearing that. Over a thousand pounds, for... for that rectangle with buttons on it? It better wash the damn dishes too, for that price.</p>
<p>"Are you ridin' off your rails? That thing really cost that much?"</p>
<p>Raihan rubs the side of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed, but unwilling to back down. "Told you, it's worth every pound. Bet you've paid more for a guitar."</p>
<p>"...That's different."</p>
<p>"It's not and you know it."</p>
<p>"Yes it is!"</p>
<p>"What, are you saying your instruments are more worth spending money on than mine?" Raihan cocks a brow, the action hidden by the headband but visible through his expression.</p>
<p>"That's... not what I meant at all." His face heats and he pretends to be looking over the other synths and devices on Raihan's desk. Why does he feel like an arse all of a sudden? All he said was spending that much money on a box with buttons on it was... okay, maybe he was a bit of an arse. It's Raihan's instrument, just like guitars are his. Piers wouldn't know what the hell to do with a synth like that, who's he to say what is or isn't worth it. People like what Raihan does on those buttons more than they like what Piers does on his strings, anyways.</p>
<p>A large hand brushes against his wrist and he snatches it away with an affronted look.</p>
<p>"Hey, I was just messing with you." Raihan's confession sends Piers bristling. "It really is a lot of money. Still worth it, though!"</p>
<p>The bright smile kicks the door down on Piers' defenses, and he finds his hackles lowering. It only lasts for a second, because Raihan's grin fades to reveal an undercurrent of concern, and Piers takes another step back.</p>
<p>"Hey... are you alright? You've been off it for a while now, mate."</p>
<p>He stiffens. "I'm fine."</p>
<p>"Like I believe that." Raihan pushes out a sigh and leans back in his chair. "What's going on? If you've changed your mind on wanting to collab with me, we don't have to keep going. I want this to be fun for you. And if there's anything I did, I want to know so I can apologize."</p>
<p>"What? No, it's not you, it's me." He gets an imploring look that begs for elaboration. Man's got great puppy eyes. "I just..." He bites his lip. Fidgets. Stares at the wall, where his CDs are on display. "...D'you really think we can make somethin' good? Together...?"</p>
<p>"Of course I do! Whatever we make will be better than anything I could make on my own. I'm going to learn so much from you, I know it."</p>
<p>It's sad how something stated so happily could sting so much. He really is being stupid.</p>
<p>"Yeah, well, it's the other way round too, innit."</p>
<p>"You... don't sound happy about that," Raihan says, confused. "Isn't it the point to learn from each other and make something great?"</p>
<p>He looks further away, rubs his arm. "I know it is. I've just... been havin' some thoughts over it. I'll get over it quick."</p>
<p>"You could get over it quicker by telling me about it."</p>
<p>"..." He wishes Raihan didn't make so much sense. "Dunno..."</p>
<p>"Remember what I said over lunch? The more we get to know each other, the better we can work together. Tell me what's on your mind. I won't judge you for it, promise."</p>
<p>When he says it like that, Piers is inclined to believe it. It's frustrating how easy it is to believe everything Raihan says. Sod it all—they aren't close, so if this falls apart there won't be much lost. It'll hurt to lose him, but Piers can't keep these thoughts suppressed inside himself when they're being plucked at by someone who looks so genuinely concerned and caring. For him of all people. What is it about Raihan that makes him so easy to open up to?</p>
<p>Piers hooks his finger into his choker and lets his arm hang off it. Takes a deeper breath that does absolutely fuck all for his nerves.</p>
<p>"It's just... what if people like our collab more than what I make on my own? What would that say about me as an artist?" He drops like he's cutting a sandbag loose.</p>
<p>"What...?"</p>
<p>"I really want to work with you, I do, but I can't shake this feelin' that anything I do won't be good enough. That what we make will show me I'm not good enough. You're so successful already, you're clearly doin' somethin' right that I'm not. A-And I don't know if I want to find out what that thing is, because what if it's somethin' I have no control over? Like... like I just wasn't meant to be all that great? That I needed someone else's help to make somethin' people like?" He drops his choker and tangles his fingers into the roots of his bangs. "I don't know. It's stupid, I'm bein' stupid and jealous, and... insecure, I guess? I- I'm just gonna go, you don't have to listen to my shite. Sorry I couldn't offer much to ya, you deserve someone better to work with."</p>
<p>He turns away, face burning, intending to swipe his stuff from the bed so he can escape and stop bothering Raihan with his nonsense, but a warm hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.</p>
<p>"I don't deserve better!" They both freeze. "I mean... shit, that was completely the wrong message. Forget that. What I mean is, Piers, of course you're good enough. You're an amazing artist. Just because you're not... just because people haven't noticed you yet, doesn't mean you're not good. You're brilliant, and I'm so honored to work with you. I know you can teach me things, and I'd love to teach you things, too. It doesn't mean you're not skilled. You're already someone I admire and look up to artistically."</p>
<p>Raihan tugs on his arm, and Piers reluctantly lets himself be reeled a few stiff steps closer.</p>
<p>"Forget about worrying if our song is better than what either of us can make on our own. I mean, that's kind of the point, if you ask me. We don't have to show anyone what we make if you don't want to. We can keep it between us, just to have fun and get to know each other and grow as musicians. Seriously, Piers, you're plenty good enough. Anyone who doesn't recognize that is a deaf arsehole, and... well. I guess that makes you a deaf arsehole too, huh."</p>
<p>"<span>Maybe I am.</span>" He huffs and tugs on his wrist. Raihan doesn't let go, and for some infuriating reason, he doesn't mind it. "Point stands that you're so amazin'. You've got all this goin' for you, you're popular and people love your music, and I'm just some small-time nobody that's jealous and bein' fussy over shit that should be nothin'. You don't really wanna work with someone that nasty, do you? Now that you know more about what kind of person I am."</p>
<p>"Piers..." Raihan loosens his grip, but doesn't drop his arm yet. It almost feels gentle, now. "You're not nasty. I do want to work with you, and I understand where you're coming from about being frustrated with everyone overlooking you." Raihan pauses and seems to fight with himself for a moment. "If there's any way I can help with that frustration, I'll do it for you."</p>
<p>He regrets opening up. Raihan wants to tackle his burdens, he shouldn't have to do that. "What could you possibly do for me?"</p>
<p>Raihan searches his eyes, and gingerly lets go of his wrist. "Nothing comes to mind? Really?"</p>
<p>"Yes? I—look, fact of the matter is, it's my problem and I'll deal with it. I'm sorry to bother you with all this."</p>
<p>The surprise on the other's face throws Piers for a moment. It's like he was expecting Piers to say something different than he did.</p>
<p>"You really don't have anything to ask of me," the DJ states.</p>
<p>Piers huffs, annoyance overshadowing his earlier insecurities. "The hell are you expectin' me to say? Do a backflip for me to cheer me up?"</p>
<p>"I thought you'd want me to promote you."</p>
<p>He blinks in shock. Not once did it occur to him that such a thing was possible. Raihan, using his popularity for his sake... It would certainly work to get his music some attention, but it feels wrong, somehow, and Piers dismisses the idea right off the bat.</p>
<p>This man's already made him happy, and that should be enough for him. No, it <em> is </em> enough for him. Raihan's been nothing but an angel so far, how could he ask for anything more from this man? God, he was being blind, who cares about abstract things like popularity when he's got someone right in front of him who actually gives a shit about him as a person? Raihan matters, right now. Imaginary people don't.</p>
<p>Resolve now firmed, Piers feels lighter in the chest and clearer in the head.</p>
<p>"Raihan..."</p>
<p>He suddenly notes the discomfort on the other man's face, and the implications catch up with him. Have people asked that of Raihan before? Wanted to use his influence to get a leg up without actually caring about who he was as a person?</p>
<p>Piers follows through on the strange compulsion to reach down and touch the back of his hand. His eyes widen, and he takes it as a good sign to continue. "I ain't gonna use you like that. Never once occurred to me that I could, swear down. You're already helpin' just by hearin' me out. And by wantin' to still do things with me even though I'm petty. That's all I could ask for from you."</p>
<p>The relief sloping those broad shoulders is telling. People absolutely have tried using him before. There's no way in hell Piers is going to be like them.</p>
<p>He sits down on the chair that was brought up for him, still with his fingertips over the back of Raihan's hand.</p>
<p>"I am curious about one thing though... Why didn't you tell me that you were actually a successful artist, back when we first met? Why'd you leave it up to me to find out?"</p>
<p>Raihan takes his eyes off the touch and rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't think it mattered. ...No, I didn't want it to matter. I was so excited to meet you, I wanted to focus all on you, you know? Forget about myself and who I was, and just... have you, in the moment. If that makes sense."</p>
<p>He can accept that. Raihan wasn't lying about his status to be haughty or anything. Just wanted to keep the spotlight off himself. Piers can appreciate those intentions even if they did turn him into a self-conscious mess. It's all sorted out now.</p>
<p>"'S alright. My fault for lettin' it get into my head so much." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head at himself, pressing his hand against his brow. "Surprised you still wanna work with me after all that. I really showed myself as a mess."</p>
<p>His wrist is taken once more, and pulled down so Piers has no choice but to look up and meet Raihan's eyes. There's a fire there, fresh determination, new enthusiasm, and it renders him speechless.</p>
<p>"As if I'm letting go of you after all that. I only want you more now." ...Did he hear that correctly? "Let's give it another hour at least."</p>
<p>He finds his voice from wherever it was buried. "Y-Yeah. Okay." That doesn't feel like enough. "...Thanks, by the way. For settin' me straight. I feel a lot better about everythin'. Guess I just needed an ear, huh?"</p>
<p>"I'm always here to listen. Glad I could help." For the first time in what feels like ages, Raihan smiles at him, warm and accepting and all too kind.</p>
<p>Piers flushes and fiddles with his choker. "Helped plenty. Thank you, Rai."</p>
<p>The nickname dropped without him really thinking about it.</p>
<p>"Hey, anytime!" Raihan stands from his chair, arms open. Piers instinctively balks and gives him a wary look, and Raihan's arms swing up to lace behind his head.</p>
<p>That was the most blatant redirection of a hug attempt that Piers has ever seen. They barely know each other, why would Raihan want to do that? No, they do know each other somewhat now, don't they. Still, though, a hug is... a bit much, for where they're at.</p>
<p>
  <em> Like it's got nothing to do with the fact you barely receive any. You just don't know what to do with them, you awkward bastard. </em>
</p>
<p>"So!" As if nothing happened, Raihan drops back into his chair, which clatters under the sudden weight. "Let's give this another go, shall we? Let's change it up, I'll let you do your own thing without me breathing down your neck. I can tell you're not used to talking aloud when brainstorming. Do what's best for you."</p>
<p>- - -</p>
<p>Instead of staying for just one more hour, Piers ends up lingering for two and then some. Raihan says something about scheduling takeout that he barely pays any mind to, too lost in his own notes and ideas. Raihan's are on the page, too, and Piers ponders them just as hard as his own.</p>
<p>It's been a lot easier to think knowing he can sit here, be quiet, and take his time. He thought that collaborating meant being on top of each other and chatting the whole way, but Raihan expressed that he was more than happy to do his own thing while Piers used his bed as a space to muse.</p>
<p>It's quite a nice bed. Large enough to starfish on without having anything near the edges, which Piers did not do, thank you very much. He is laying down, however, on his stomach, pen once more in his mouth as he thinks. The plastic is dented and textured from weeks of being nibbled and bitten. His teeth put a new mark in the end with a twitch of his jaw.</p>
<p>None of these idea seeds are good... All rubbish, if you ask him. But that doesn't mean he has to give up just yet. Like Raihan said, there's no pressure. He doesn't have to come up with something perfect right away.</p>
<p>He rolls onto his back and holds the notebook straight-armed above his face, squinting at the scrawled ideas like the induced blurriness will help him see new things.</p>
<p>"Interesting that you write things on paper like that," Raihan says from his desk. True to his word, he left Piers to his own devices, but every so often would glance over or even stare a bit. Not a bother at all, really. Piers kind of likes the attention, but only because it's Raihan giving it.</p>
<p>He rolls onto his stomach, the end of his pen still stuck in his mouth. "Th' hell do ya mean, interestin'?"</p>
<p>"Nothing, really! It's cute, that's all."</p>
<p>He scowls and juts his jaw, swiveling the pen to point straight at Raihan. "Fink my creative prosheshh ish cute, do ya?"</p>
<p>"...When you say it like <em> that, </em> then—oi!" Raihan flails to swat the incoming pen out of the air before it hits his face. "Don't you need this to write?"</p>
<p>"Ain't doin' any good right now. Keep it if you want a souvenir," he dismisses.</p>
<p>Raihan looks down at the cheap ballpoint and all its bite marks. "...Are you serious about letting me have it, or—"</p>
<p>"Changed me mind. Give it back." He extends his arm over the edge of the bed, palm up. "God knows what you'll do with the innocent thing."</p>
<p>They're bantering like they never had that tough emotional spot at all. This easy conversation feels so much better than the arguing and stress of opening up. Although, it is thanks to that heart to heart that things can feel so relaxed now; he shouldn't dismiss the good that bit of suffering did for them.</p>
<p>Odd that he doesn't feel shame or embarrassment over his near-meltdown. Only relief. Raihan's got this odd, comforting quality about him that Piers can't place.</p>
<p>"Can you really call it innocent after it's been in your mouth all evening?" Raihan stands from his chair and easily stretches over without needing to take more than a step on those damn long legs.</p>
<p>"Thank you so very much." He holds the pen like a mock cigarette and sticks it back between his teeth to make a point. "Don't worry, it's consented."</p>
<p>"To being a victim of your oral fixation?" Raihan collapses back into his desk chair.</p>
<p>"'Xactly right." He smirks when Raihan does a double take, and makes a show of rolling his tongue around the end of the pen in his mouth. "Havin' things in me mouth helps me think."</p>
<p>His legs kick back and forth innocently in the air and he grins around the pen when Raihan blushes furiously. It's easier to tease him now. Things feel lighter between them. More fun. Less serious. It helps that Raihan's an endearing blend of overly-confident yet utterly teasable at the same time. Charming but not unapproachable. And so weak to innuendos, what a pleasant discovery.</p>
<p>...That gives him an idea. He pushes himself up and swipes his notebook from where it fell forgotten on the covers. The papers swish and swipe as he hurriedly flips dozens of pages back. Where is it...</p>
<p>"Got an idea for a mood for our song..."</p>
<p>Ah, there it is. God, these notes are old, back when he used to doodle in the margins because his mind would wander.</p>
<p>"A mood? Watcha got?" Previous embarrassment forgotten, Raihan wheels closer and spins to face Piers on the bed.</p>
<p>"How would you feel about somethin' a little... darker?" He skims over the page of old lyrics.</p>
<p>"I'm liking the sound of that."</p>
<p>He holds his notebook up so Raihan can read it. "This here's an old song draft I never got around to writin' a full thing for. Might come in use."</p>
<p>Raihan squints at the paper and holds his chin. "...Yeah, I can't read a word of that. Cute drawings though!"</p>
<p>"Tch." Piers pulls the notebook to himself and flips to the next page. The rough draft of a melody is there. Reminds him exactly how this went. "I'll just sing it for ya, then."</p>
<p>Raihan kicks against the bed to roll his chair back, hands planted on the arms of it like he's about to shoot to his feet. "Sing? In front of me?"</p>
<p>"Er... yeah? That alright?"</p>
<p>Raihan nods so hard his headband dislodges and falls over his eyes. He pushes it back up to reveal his open excitement. "Do you need anything first? Glass of water? Oh! Can I record it to listen to later? Please?"</p>
<p>"No!" His face gets hot and he busies himself with smoothing his notebook pages out. "None a' that, this is just a test run. Just sit there and listen and tell me if you like it. Won't be the last time you hear me, anyways."</p>
<p>Raihan, looking this close to fainting, nods and wiggles back as comfortably as possible. "Stage is all yours."</p>
<p>He sits on the edge of the bed for better posture. He's never sung in front of anyone that wasn't his sister, so this'll be weird...</p>
<p>"Here goes..."</p>
<p>He closes his eyes, sits up straighter, and clears his throat.</p>
<p>The worry that Raihan might not like how he sounds in person compared to how he sounds in his songs flitters through his head and is promptly <span>squashed</span>. He can do this. Singing is his life, he's always dreamed of performing in front of other people. People that aren't Marnie. This can be step one, and he's glad that it's Raihan.</p>
<p>Despite the lack of warm-up and a quiet start, his singing goes quite well. He remembers the words and tune as if he wrote them yesterday, but partway into it he tweaks the melody to better fit the rather saucy lyrics. It's dark, moody, deeper than he usually sings.</p>
<p>He's really gotten into it by the time he's run out of song. It catches him off guard. He awkwardly trails into a wordless resolution to properly close out the melody, else it'll agitate him the rest of the day that he left a tune hanging.</p>
<p>Weak finish, but... whatever. It's done now.</p>
<p>He licks his lips, eyes still closed. "That's about it. Nothin' too developed."</p>
<p>"Wow..."</p>
<p>He opens his eyes and startles. Raihan's looking dreamy and dazed, like those cartoon characters when they fall in love at first sight or some shite. Plain sappy. Stupid handsome.</p>
<p>"Did you like it?" He shifts where he sits. It's tempting to snap his fingers in front of Raihan's face since he's still got that weird expression on. "Raihan...?"</p>
<p>"Like it?" He shakes his head and snaps out of it at last. "I loved it! That was glorious! Like magic! When you sing, your face gets all," he gestures aimlessly, "and it's the best thing to see. I could watch you forever. Please tell me that really won't be the last time, I'm already addicted to you."</p>
<p>Piers' face got very, very hot over the course of that passionate rambling. Especially that last bit, what the hell? First <em> "I only want you more now" </em> from before,  now he's addicted? Is this just how Raihan expresses that he likes things, or what...</p>
<p>"Forget what I looked like, what'd you think of the song?" He testily asks. "Think we could use it?"</p>
<p>"Oh! Yes, of course! I think it's perfect. What kind of message were you wanting to send with that one? I didn't really catch the lyrics much, sorry."</p>
<p>He brushes his exasperation aside and muses over the question. Messages and moods, moods and messages...</p>
<p>Raihan's words from hours ago play back in his head.</p>
<p>
  <em> What about a song that says ,'you should have a good time while listening to me,' is that enough? </em>
</p>
<p>A good time... yes, a very particular kind of good time. This might actually work for him.</p>
<p>"I think I want this song to say... you're gonna have a <em> very </em> good time listenin' to me. I think that'll be enough." He offers a small smile that's warmly returned. Rai remembers too.</p>
<p>Piers' stomach does something funny the longer they stay looking at each other.</p>
<p>"Hey... Can we take a selfie? Just a quick one."</p>
<p>"I—what?" The strange request throws him off.</p>
<p>"A selfie! You know, to commemorate our first breakthrough in working together! I think it deserves a picture." Raihan pulls his phone out and opens the camera. "I won't post it, don't worry. This one's just for me."</p>
<p>Before Piers can question why on earth this moment is photo-worthy, the mattress at his side dips and he tilts hard against a warm body.</p>
<p>"Whoa, careful there." An arm wraps around his shoulders to steady him. Piers pushes against Raihan's chest and sits up straight, but the arm doesn't fall away just yet. Okay. This is getting ridiculous. Is Raihan flirting with him or not?</p>
<p>"...Just take the damn thing. Ain't gonna smile for it, hope you know."</p>
<p>"That's fine. Your resting bitch face is pretty cute."</p>
<p>He should scowl and snap for that. If Raihan is flirting, he's absolutely horrid at it.</p>
<p>
  <em> What's that say about you, then? Since it's working and all. You can at least admit this arm feels nice.</em>
</p>
<p>He wearily sighs. "Promise you won't post it?"</p>
<p>"Promise," Raihan says, and Piers believes him.</p>
<p>It hits him, that odd quality of Raihan's character that's been bugging him all this time. What makes Raihan so easy to relax and be soothed around. What makes it so easy to open up to him.</p>
<p>Raihan feels trustworthy. Honestly trustworthy.</p>
<p>Piers could laugh at that, since the only people he trusts are himself and his sister, and now this stranger waltzes in, doing hardly anything other than smile and say words Piers wished he heard a long time ago, and he's already claiming Piers' tentative trust.</p>
<p>He's gone mental.</p>
<p>The phone is held high. Piers hardly wants to look at it, since he hates having his picture taken (and yet Raihan gets the special privilege, because of course he does), but he can't resist a glance upwards.</p>
<p>As chance would have it, that's the exact moment Raihan takes the photo.</p>
<p>"Great!" Raihan lowers the phone and stares at the screen. "Looks perfect as always," he quietly says.</p>
<p>The way he said that felt off, somehow.</p>
<p>Piers' breathing gets a touch shallower when Raihan drops his arm and stows the device back into his hoodie pocket.</p>
<p>"Well, ya are a handsome bloke. Know your way around a camera. You don't seem the type to ever take a bad picture."</p>
<p>Raihan chuckles and pulls his headband off. "You think so?"</p>
<p>He watches very carefully as he answers. "Yeah. Seen all your social medias. You make yourself look perfect."</p>
<p>There it is. A flicker.</p>
<p>An instagram page with scores of followers and post after post of flawless smiles and perfectly-prepped meals scrolls past Piers' memory. Man's a social media expert. Got his face all over every platform. Always handsome, always smiling and looking at ease. Piers can't imagine how much energy that must take. He'd hate maintaining a semblance of perfection all the time. Maybe Raihan enjoys it, but hell, what sane human would?</p>
<p>"Why don't you indulge me here..." Piers pulls his own phone out, with its shit-quality camera and busted screen. He hardly ever uses it for photos that aren't of his cat. "I want a selfie too. Compensation for the one you took."</p>
<p>"Oh, sure! Here, let me—"</p>
<p>"One catch." He holds the phone away from Raihan's reaching hand. "...Gimme one with <em> your </em>resting bitch face."</p>
<p>"My what."</p>
<p>"Don't worry," he mimics, "won't do nothin' with it. It'll only be for me to look at. I want a picture of the rare not-smiling Raihan."</p>
<p>The stunned look he receives, followed by bashfulness of all things, makes this worthwhile already. He cozies up and hands his phone over.</p>
<p>"Get ready for one of a kind." Raihan flashes a smile by habit before schooling his expression into something more serious. His attempt at looking meaner is comically adorable. A scrunchy scowl is the best he can do, and Piers can hardly hide his amusement.</p>
<p>The picture they take shows him smiling, and Raihan not. He thinks he likes this one better.</p>
<p>"Thanks for indulgin' me." He spins his phone in his hand before tucking it away. "Well, I should probably get goin'. Dunno about you but I'm knackered after all this."</p>
<p>Raihan scrambles away from the bed. "Wait, before you go!"</p>
<p>After a few minutes of begging, Raihan manages to wheedle him into singing his half-baked song a second time, this time into the USB mic on the desk. He gripes about recording himself with such a low quality mic, but if it's just for experimentation purposes, he can tolerate it.</p>
<p>When Raihan clicks to end the recording, he beams like he just got the gift of a lifetime, and rambles happily about already having tons of ideas he wants to explore.</p>
<p>"Promise you won't work ahead without me?" Piers slides his notebook away into his bag. The pen rests on the bed covers, aligned just so with the seam of a color change, making it hard to spot unless one knows it's there.</p>
<p>He could 'forget' about it, and leave it here. As a gift. Weird as that is, Raihan would probably like having it.</p>
<p>"Scout's honor. This song's yours as much as mine. Wouldn't feel right to work on our baby without its other parent present."</p>
<p>He rolls his eyes at that and shoulders his bag. "I'll text you about the baby later, how's that?"</p>
<p>"Sounds good. But you know, if you want, you can text me about non-collab things too." Raihan scratches his cheek, not meeting his eye. "Only if you want. I do want a copy of that picture, if nothing else..."</p>
<p>On his way out the room, Piers bumps his shoulder against the man's arm and flashes him a smile. "You'll see what I choose to send. I won't make you wait a week this time, promise."</p>
<p>The front door closes behind him, and Piers lingers on the doorstep once more. He digs his phone out and hunts for his photo gallery, tapping on the latest addition when he's found it. Raihan's dorky attempt at a scowl pulls a smile to his face that matches the one on the screen. Cute fellow...</p>
<p>He sends it forward over text, along with a dry comment about the local weather that he knows will be a joyous surprise, and fights to keep a straight face all the way home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. To Be Heard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the days that follow their first collaboration session, Raihan attempts to listen to the recording from start to finish, uninterrupted, so he can get a good idea on what to do with it.</p>
<p>Not once has he succeeded.</p>
<p>The longest he's been able to let it play is thirty seconds, which is right where Piers does something throaty and resonant with his voice and Raihan has to slam the pause button to collect himself.</p>
<p>All his efforts to desensitize himself to Piers' singing have failed. It affects him just as much now as when he first heard it from the man sitting pretty on his bed.</p>
<p>This recording is particularly special, since he asked for it and Piers said yes while rolling his eyes in that adorable way<em>. </em> This recording was very much <em> for him. </em> Doesn't matter that it's a rough-draft sound for rough-draft lyrics, or that it was recorded on a mic that's substandard compared to what Piers deserves to be singing into. It's special. And he loves that it's special, but it's kind of ruining his ability to work. Every time Raihan gives the clip another play, the memory of Piers' intensity grabs hold and doesn't let go until he tears his headphones off and rubs his hand down his face.</p>
<p>He may or may not be a bit fucked. Saying yes to making a song with vocals like this, all broody and erotic and dripping with raw <em> fuck me </em> vibes. He's positive he isn't projecting that last part just because he's irrevocably attracted to Piers. The singer actually sounds like that. He really cranked it up the second time, into the mic, and Raihan once again had to guiltily crank one out, right after Piers left.</p>
<p>What's sad is that he already jerked off before Piers showed up at his place as a precaution, but he still could not keep a clear head the whole time Piers was over, and who can blame him! Piers was on his bed! Rolling around, being adorable with his hair spread all over Raihan's blankets, squinting at his notebook and playing with that pen.</p>
<p>That bloody. Freaking. Pen.</p>
<p>Said pen rests innocently on his desk, between his keyboard and mouse. Like it doesn't even know what it's capable of. The dents in the cheap plastic have different shapes; there's broader lines where Piers' front teeth bit into it, and smaller marks that must be from his incisors. It was left on his bed, and he didn't notice it until he went to sleep for the night and it rolled onto the floor with the telltale clack that all pens make when they hit the ground.</p>
<p>He did not throw the covers off his bed to go grab it and he absolutely did not lay awake for hours wondering if Piers left it behind on purpose—in which case what the hell would that mean, like is it a signal, or what—or if it was an accident, and if it <em> was </em> on accident, would it be appropriate to text him about it or would it be weird to make a big deal over something as generic and disposable as a ballpoint pen whose random-arse company logo is half-faded on the plastic. Nope. He did not do any of that stuff. He treated it like a casual accident right off the bat.</p>
<p>...Who's he kidding. No amount of denial can change how much this stupid pen has wrecked his beauty sleep. Sleep that was already hard to come by since he can't even crawl into bed without thinking about how Piers' body was all over it.</p>
<p>He reaches out to nudge the stupid thing out of sight, and stops himself right before he can touch it. He should know better by now.</p>
<p>The obsessive devil on his shoulder has tempted him multiple times, telling him to straight-up lick the pen. No one would know. The thing's already been turned into an oral fidget toy, so why not make use of it the same way? Indirect kiss, how funny would that be? Some real schoolyard humor there. Raihan rallied behind the angel on the other side and said no, that's fucking weird and definitely crosses a line, and felt proud of himself for putting the damn thing into a drawer where he didn't have to look at it anymore.</p>
<p>A day later, he took it back out. And set it on his desk. And left it there. And did not think about running his fingers over the textured end while imagining if Piers would ever nibble on his fingers like that.</p>
<p>Oral fixation. Exactly right.</p>
<p>It couldn't have been left behind on purpose. For the sake of his health and well-being, it was a simple accident born of Piers' forgetfulness. Nothing to read into about a simple accident.</p>
<p>Hah. Accident. Acci-<em>dent</em>. Dent, dental. Teeth. Piers' teeth, in Piers' mouth, with that tongue rolling over the end of the plastic like it was candy.</p>
<p>Son of a bitch.</p>
<p>He groans and drags his headband off, gripping his hair where it's tied back. It's been days and he's still going crazy over cheap stationary of all things. And the song, too, there's that. He's been subjected to a multi-front assault.</p>
<p>Raihan gives up on trying to work and sinks back into his chair, phone in hand.</p>
<p>The default text messaging app is right under his thumb. He moved it to a place of honor on the sticky bar at the bottom of the screen, right next to the social media apps he normally uses to communicate. His thread with Leon is second on the list and contains another set of his embarrassing behavior, as he's been venting—ranting—alright, gushing, about 'a guy' in his best friend's DMs. Last message sent: two days ago.</p>
<p>Right at the top of the list, crowned the spot thanks to how recent the activity is, sits Piers' conversation. He's checked on it more times than he's looked at his social media apps lately, and that's saying something. Here's another tally to the count.</p>
<p>Raihan scrolls up to read exchanges he's already memorized. Just a few short, sweet conversations about non-collab things, just like Raihan said they could have. A bit about the weather, since everyone needs to complain about the weather to each other at least once (Raihan's an odd one for not minding whatever the day presents, but he's not about to rain on the parade of other people's ritualistic bitch fests). After that, there's a text from Piers saying that he got home safe, without Raihan even having to ask.</p>
<p>He pulls the neckline of his hoodie up to smile into and scrolls down further. There's him wishing Piers goodnight, and a reply back the next day of an apology, because apparently the guy passed out soon as he got home. The late response wasn't a bother. It was the perfect opening for Raihan to continue texting him that next day's morning.</p>
<p>There's not much left to scroll. All their exchanges are rather short, but each one leaves a sweet taste in his mouth that's both satisfying, and has him wanting more, more, more.</p>
<p>The most recent message from Piers has an honest to god exclamation point. It's his favorite, even if it is half cuss word.</p>
<p>He stares at it for so long, lost in thought, that his phone goes to sleep, and he's treated to the sight of his reflection's daydreamy, soft-eyed expression. Raihan rubs a hand down his face and sets the phone aside, screen down.</p>
<p>He's not stupid. He knows what's happening to him.</p>
<p>At first it was only the rush of having his idol in front of him. The admiration, the euphoria of an artist he adores paying attention to him. Once reality set in and he got to have an honest look at the man, hear his voice in person, see how his hair catches the light, those pretty eyes and rough bony hands, then it was sexual attraction that nearly suffocated him. And it still is suffocating him, but it's not just admiration and attraction, anymore. After their first session working together, things changed.</p>
<p>Piers opened up to him, and knowingly or not, pried him a bit open too. All thanks to that damn picture they took...</p>
<p>He slides his phone towards him and shortcuts his way to the front-facing camera. He forces himself to hold it directly in front instead of up high, and does his best to ease into a natural-looking resting bitch face. Relaxed cheeks and lips, pressed-down brows, sterner eyes—</p>
<p>"Shit." He jerks his head to the side and shoves his phone into his pocket. He can't look at himself like that. People would hate seeing him like that. He's Raihan, everyone loves him, and loves his smile, his easy-going attitude, the way he never seems bothered and never seems down. A beacon of positivity that everyone wants to bask in whenever they're in a bad mood. Nobody wants to see his face with anything less than a handsome, friendly, gold medal smile.</p>
<p><em> Show me </em> your <em> resting bitch face, </em> Piers said.</p>
<p>In that moment, as they sat side by side, Piers saw right through him. It was scary. It was exhilarating. He felt <em> seen, </em> and not in the way thousands upon thousands of people see him in the everyday.</p>
<p>He'll check his phone one more time before focusing again.</p>
<p>A quick scroll through their message thread takes him to that special photo.</p>
<p>The quality is terrible since the phone it was taken on had a shit camera, but the grainy quality is kind of nostalgic. It's hard to look at his own weird-ass attempt of a scowl; he has to actively force himself to really <em> look </em> instead of merely aiming his eyes at it. It's difficult to absorb. If he took a picture like this on his own, he'd delete it right away. But... he can't let this one go. He needs to keep it. It feels more real than the hundreds, thousands of optimized selfies he's taken over the months and years. Like out of all of them, this one's got the most of his true self on it. A regular guy, trying to get back in touch with all the things he's not allowed to feel. Things that Piers' music tethers him to so he doesn't forget.</p>
<p>His eyes gladly shift from his unpracticed attempt at looking mean to the man smiling at his side. Raihan finds himself matching the captured expression. What he wouldn't give for a high-def smile from Piers, but in the meantime, this is perfect. He feels better just looking at it.</p>
<p>Defensiveness and anxieties aside, Piers is one of the most genuine people he's ever met, and being around him makes Raihan feel more genuine too. He thought it was a lost feeling. Never expected that he might find himself alongside someone else.</p>
<p>A long sigh eases out of him and he sits up straight again, reaching for his headphones and adjusting them on his head. Back to music. This isn't the first time he's gotten distracted daydreaming about Piers and it won't be the last, but he's got to focus and pull his weight on this collaboration. It's important to him and important to his new friend too.</p>
<p>Alright. Focus time. No more thinking about Piers' smile, or things being in Piers' mouth, or all the warm fuzzy feelings that thinking about Piers makes him feel, and definitely not the name that could be ascribed to said warm fuzzy feelings. He's got to focus.</p>
<p>He makes it past the thirty-second mark without pausing at the cost of his shorts getting tight and fucking hell. Not again. He can picture a slanted smirk in his head, framed around a snarky quip that plucks at him in just the right way.</p>
<p>"Fuck this." He growls and rolls his chair closer. If he can't listen without getting turned on, might as well make a song that'll turn everyone on. "Gonna get pants dropping left and right," he vindictively mutters. "Get everyone swooning."</p>
<p>He refuses to be alone in how much Piers affects him. He wants to show the man off to the world. Show everyone the talent he has. They'll make a song that plays off the sexy vocals and it'll be, by far, the most self-indulgent thing Raihan's ever made. Something tells him Piers would happily be on board with a shameless plan like this. A song made to tease, to flirt, something that should never be played in public or around innocent ears.</p>
<p>Such a concept hinges a lot on the vocals, and Raihan can't do proper experimenting with the short, admittedly low-quality sound clip he has. He needs more samples. More recordings. Yeah... Yeah, he can sample more off Piers' voice, and not just from his singing. If he could get a few clips of the man making other sounds, that would be perfect material to add some variety to the soundscape. Give him lots of toys to play with.</p>
<p>On a spur of inspiration-fueled bravery, he gives the man a call.</p>
<p>Raihan's heart pounds as he sits through the low drone of every unanswered ring. He swears that stupid beep was deliberately timed so it always stops a microsecond short of what's expected, to get hopes up that maybe the other person answered. But nope, it's just ringing, ringing...</p>
<p>"'Lo?" Piers mumbles. That short little sound byte is the sweetest thing he's heard all week.</p>
<p>"Hey, it's me! I think I've got an idea for our song! Can you record a few samples for me to play with so I can experiment and see how viable it is? Doesn't have to be anything long or complex, I just want a few clips." He rattles off all at once, giddy just to talk to the man again. If his phone had a cord he'd be winding it around his finger.</p>
<p>"What...? Samples of what?" Something creaks in the background, and there's a muffled yawn. Oh, god, was he taking a nap? Did Piers just wake up? He'd give anything to see what Piers looks like when he's just waking up.</p>
<p>Raihan presses a hand over his chest and mouths a silent <em> fuck </em> to collect himself.</p>
<p>Okay. Play it cool.</p>
<p>He kicks away from his desk and spins in a slow circle. "Your voice is what I want. Give me some breathing and sighing." And why stop there? "And a moan or two while you're at it. I don't need a lot for what I wanna try, like I said, it's just an experiment. Might end up throwing the whole thing away, who knows! So how about it? No rush, of course!"</p>
<p>The silence on the other end gives him enough time to realize the strangeness of his request. Maybe he should have opened with an explanation of his plans. Or even a 'hey, how are you?' like a normal person.</p>
<p>The silence has him bouncing his leg and biting his lip. It's tempting to explain himself, but he knows the more he says the more he'll dig himself into whatever hole he may or may not be standing in.</p>
<p>"...Fuck it, not gonna ask," Piers groans. "I trust your weird arse."</p>
<p>He lights up and sinks lower in his chair. "So is that a yes, you'll give me what I want?"</p>
<p>The tail end of a yawn reaches him and he would give <em> anything </em> to see it in person. "Sure. How's about you come to my place so you can tell me exactly what you want? Be easier to plan together in person."</p>
<p>Piers' place.</p>
<p>He's been invited to Piers' pace.</p>
<p>
  As soon as he returns a dazed "Sounds good, yeah," and gets an address texted to him, Raihan hangs up the call, stares
  at his phone, and after his brain starts working again, dives onto his bed and swerves right into his best friend's
  DMs. It's what, a little after three o'clock? Leon should be training right about now, so chances are, maybe, maybe
  he'll see and answer right away.
  <span class="hide"><br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Dude</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Dude dude dude</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Put down your barbells or whatever you're training with right now you are not gonna believe this</span>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <span class="hide"><br/>
  </span>
  Read receipt, yes! It's not often he's lucky enough to catch the guy at a convenient time. Raihan curls up on his
  covers and grins at the little typing indicator as it bobs.
  <span class="hide"><br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>I'm on the treadmill! Bit hard to put that down</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>What's this news you're losing your mind over?</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>ok</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>get ready for this.......</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>......</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>..........</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>He invited me</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>To his place.</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>HIS PLACE LEON</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>...That mystery guy youve been going on about for days?</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Yes!!! Him!! He's invited me!to his home!</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>Congrats..? That was rather fast. Knew you could do it mate@</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>!</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>I mean it's only for business, not for personal reasons.</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>I'm taking my congratulations back. You're hopeless</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Am NOT</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Business or not this is still good!!! So give those congrats back I deserve them</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>I get to be at his *house*</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>I wonder what kind of place it is</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>He seems like a one-story kind of guy</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Yup google street view confirmed</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>wow his yard is tiny</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>I can't wait to see what it's like inside</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>I wonder if he's messy or keeps things organized</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>You think I can get a glimpse of his bedroom while I'm there?</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>...Raihan</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>You're my best friend so I'm obligated to tell you. If he was able to read everything you've been texting
      me about him, he might be put off. But I do think it's cute that you're so excited and I'm glad you have a new
      friend, especially since we haven't been able to hang out in so long!</span>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <span class="hide"><br/>
  </span>
  Raihan sighs through his nose and rolls onto his back. He understands the crowded schedule his best mate's got. Leon's
  busy. Professional athlete and all the fuss that goes with it. He's training nearly every day and too busy recovering
  from said training to hang in his rare moments of free time. Times have changed, they're not college mates anymore.
  They can't sneak to each other's campuses in the middle of the night for surprise visits, or go pub crawling until
  they've cemented the next day's misery.
</p>
<p>
  The first time he met Leon was on the field, both of them the star players for their university's respective football
  teams. Raihan was only in it to stay fit and put his competitive nature to good use, but the matches against Leon
  sucked him into taking the sport seriously. It became his primary goal in the later years to put Wyndon University's
  team into the ground. It never happened, of course, Leon's too fucking brilliant on the field, and instead of it
  driving Raihan crazy with frustration, he rather enjoyed the rivalry. It's impossible to get mad with that guy's sunny
  disposition.
</p>
<p>
  Somewhere along the way they graduated from rivals to friends. Only lasted until they graduated academically, too.
  Raihan went his own way with his music degree and launched a career out of it, while Leon went professional in sports,
  recruited straight from the college team into the city's big leagues. Star rookie of the Wyndon F.C. Over time the
  rookie part of it dropped away to leave him as just the star. Shining so bright even on the telly screen, looking like
  a champ in his jersey with his infamously voluminous chest stretching the crest on the fabric and making the wolf's
  face look all wonky.
</p>
<p>
  Famous and busy as the athlete is, they text often enough, which Raihan is grateful for. Leon's always put up with his
  madness. Even this latest bout of it.
  <span class="hide"><br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>I'm just worried that you might be getting a little... obsessed</span>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <span class="hide"><br/>
  </span>
  Oops. He left that text hanging. Hopefully Leon doesn't read into it; bloke's always been dense as an 8-ball.
  <span class="hide"><br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Pshhhh... Me, obsessed. .......(alright maybe i am a little)</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Don't worry, I know you won't give me away. You'll keep it hush hush and keep your best mate's secrets
      secret won't you?</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>Of course of course! Anything you say is safe with me &lt;3</span>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <span class="hide"><br/>
  </span>
  Raihan's never been one to hide things from his best friend once he chooses a topic to open up about, and that honesty
  makes up for how he doesn't tell Leon about every topic that's on his mind. He doesn't want to distract his star of a
  best friend with whatever weird things weigh on him.
  <span class="hide"><br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>

<p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>In that case...... I'm free to obsess all I want ;)</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>Shoot I've got to go</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>
          Leon: </b>
      </span>Best of luck, mate! Don't overdo it!</span><br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="rreply">
      <span class="hide">
        <b>Raihan: </b>
      </span>Since when has that advice ever done you or me any good?</span>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <span class="hide"><br/>
  </span>
  - - -
</p>
<p>Leon's encouragement bolstered his confidence the entire trip over. The jaunt across town wasn't too bad. He's never been to this area before, and he's always been one to enjoy new sights regardless of what those sights may be.</p>
<p>Thanks to his street-view scoping earlier, he finds Piers' place with no trouble at all. The house has seen better days and could use a good power-washing on the sides, and the yard could fit on a postage stamp, and the look of the neighborhood merits Raihan's previous worry over Piers getting home safe, but all in all, it's not bad.</p>
<p>Raihan feels too big for the screened-in porch. Nothing new; he feels too big for most places.</p>
<p>A knock and a short wait later, the front door opens a couple inches. It's stopped by a chain pulled taut, blocking his view of the pretty eye glaring up at him. Raihan hunches a bit to look under it. "Evening," he says with a grin.</p>
<p>Piers' gaze softens, only to widen and re-squint in apprehension. "You ain't allergic to cats, are ya? Forgot to ask."</p>
<p>"Uh, no?"</p>
<p>The door shuts, metal rasps on metal, and suddenly Piers is in front of him, bangs fluttering. He's in a large t-shirt with a faded rock band on it, and pajama shorts that are barely visible from below the hem of the shirt. Down past those mile-long legs, smoother than he ever thought to imagine (and as pale as he expected), are black ankle socks.</p>
<p>Piers was totally sleeping in those clothes. It's long past noon and he's still in his pajamas, god, how can anyone be so cute?</p>
<p>"...Come in, then, if you're done starin'. And take yer shoes off."</p>
<p>He jerks his head up only to catch the swing of a ponytail as Piers pads down the hall without him. Raihan nearly trips in his haste to yank his trainers off.</p>
<p>"Sorry! I just, wasn't expecting to see you so casual. I like it."</p>
<p>"Glad you're rewardin' my laziness in gettin' dressed for this."</p>
<p>If Raihan only saw Piers in his pajamas from now on, he would not complain.</p>
<p>"You live by yourself?" He asks, dogging Piers' heels. "Alone with a cat, I mean."</p>
<p>"Why, gonna murder me later if I say yes?" A smirk is thrown his way. "Kiddin'. Wouldn't ask you to do me the favor. Anyways, yeah, just me and my cat here. A small place suits me just fine, since my sister doesn't live with me."</p>
<p>Raihan shakes off the morbid joke. So, Piers has a sibling! That's something they have in common, how exciting.</p>
<p>"Hey, I've got a sister too! She's older than me, off doing her own thing overseas. What about yours? Older? Younger?"</p>
<p>They pass through a bare living room into another dim hallway. Piers seems to like keeping his house dark.</p>
<p>"Younger by a fair bit. Still in school. She's off at a fancy institution, thanks to her parents."</p>
<p>'Her' parents...? And Piers is living in a place this shoddy while his sister's at an expensive school. Interesting situation...</p>
<p>Piers seems to sense his curiosity and sighs. "Adoptive. We were in the system for quite a while. I was countin' on agin' out and workin' to get custody of my sis, but right before that happened, a couple came along wantin' to take her. She was adamant they take me too, and no one can say no to her when she really wants somethin', so they went to the trouble of takin' us both. 'Course, their heart was only with Marnie. Soon as I turned eighteen they kindly suggested I move out." Piers rolls his eyes, oblivious to the horror on Raihan's face. "She's in a good spot, that's all I care about. They love her and spoil her. All I can ask for, really." A tiny smile crosses the big brother's face. "And she visits whenever she can."</p>
<p>That's the longest Piers has ever spoken on his own, and it was about his sister. He really loves her, plain as day. Sucks that the people who adopted them didn't really care about him. But Piers seems self-sufficient, and Raihan can't sense any real resentment sent towards the couple who adopted them, so... there's not much space to express his sympathies.</p>
<p>Before he can think of something new to say, a large black mass creeps around the corner and blocks their way.</p>
<p>"Holy shit, is that your cat?" He exclaims. "That thing's a monster!"</p>
<p>"What? Oh, there ya are, Stagger. Was wonderin' when you'd come investigate." Piers nonchalantly scoops up the behemoth of a cat. It's impressively fluffy, predominantly black, with a white chest and nose and little white socks. The cat's whiskers are some of the longest Raihan's ever seen, and a little pink tongue pokes out its mouth. "Rai, this is Stagger. Cute bastard, ain't he?"</p>
<p>Raihan's more distracted by how cute Piers looks, holding the fluffy beast like a baby and rubbing its face with a finger. A large paw reaches up and taps at the ring on Pier's choker.</p>
<p>"Yeah... adorable..."</p>
<p>"He's an old chap. Got him from the shelter when I asked to take the most unwanted one they had, and he turned out to be a big lovin' sweetheart." Piers hefts the beast into one arm so he can spare a hand to poke the peeking tongue. "He's fine with strangers. Always tries to make friends with anyone I bring home. He'll like you too, I know. Be careful though, he'll lick your skin raw if you let him."</p>
<p>"Hah, noted, noted. So uh, you bring people to your place often? For him to be socialized that well?" He tries to keep his smile natural.</p>
<p>"Eh, often enough." Piers shrugs and lightly bounces the cat in his arms. The animal looks perfectly content to be cuddled, which, relatable. Or, it would be relatable if Raihan ever experienced the heaven of being wrapped up in Piers' arms like that. This cat is being treated like an actual baby. "Whenever the mood strikes. You know how it is, I'm sure."</p>
<p>He certainly does. So he has no right to be jealous, but here he is, picturing strangers slipping into Piers' house and kissing and touching him, and being touched back. Hell, Raihan's jealous of the cat right now. It isn't fair to the animal, it did nothing wrong, but god, what he'd give to be in its place.</p>
<p>A sound not unlike a creaky door hinge pulls him back to reality. Stagger's staring at him. No way was that a meow.</p>
<p>"Wanna hold him?"</p>
<p>"Uh... if he'll let me." Piers shuffles close and deposits the cat into his arms and oh, hell, what does he feed this thing? "God, he's heavy."</p>
<p>"What, can't handle it?" Piers sounds amused.</p>
<p>He eyes Piers' skinny arms. "Just surprised. Thought he was all fluff."</p>
<p>The monster starts vibrating in his arms and he glances down. Stagger's eyes are closed, and the little tongue is still peeking out. Must be missing some teeth in his old age. The purring ramps up, just as rickety as the meow, and Raihan can't stop himself from smiling.</p>
<p>"Told you he'd like you." Piers turns away and Raihan follows, careful to keep his steps even and smooth. "My studio's right here."</p>
<p>That gets his attention. He can barely keep his excitement from lengthening his stride as Piers opens a door and disappears.</p>
<p>Raihan peers inside, holding his breath in stasis.</p>
<p>"This was the main bedroom. I use the guest one as my actual room. Don't need as much space for sleepin'." Piers scratches the side of his head and stands back as Raihan reverently steps further in.</p>
<p>Piers' home recording studio.</p>
<p>"This is wicked cool..." He turns in a slow circle, bouncing the cat in his arms and marveling at the sheer amount of stuff. He wasn't expecting much after seeing how bare the rest of Piers' house is, but this? It's clear that all the guy's money went into this room. "I can't believe I'm actually standing here. This is where the magic happens!"</p>
<p>It's not a large room to begin with, and made rather crowded with all the stuff inside, plus two people. Cords and cables coil over the floor like spilled spaghetti, except not as gross to accidentally step on and way more useful for making music. The walls are patched with foam padding in all sorts of weird, angular shapes. Amateur soundproofing.</p>
<p>Taking up a decent amount of the limited space is a drum set that doesn't all match; some drums are different colors from the others. Replaced over time? Pulled together from different sources right from the start? He knew Piers played everything himself, but for some reason he never pictured the man sitting behind a drum kit when the visual of him with a guitar was so much more enticing.</p>
<p>Wait. Guitars, where are the guitars? Forget the drums, the amps and speakers, the desk with—only one monitor, really? How does he get anything done?</p>
<p>In one corner of the room, behind a large piano keyboard, he spots them. Two electric guitars with a four-string bass between them. One's an eye-shocking pink while the other is a tamer black and white, covered in stickers.</p>
<p>Raihan's fanboyism threatens to grab him by the throat. These are the actual... guitars that Piers plays... God, just the image of him holding one of those beasts has his heart racing. Piers would look so cool up on stage, shredding his heart out and sweating under the spotlights.</p>
<p>He gets distracted anew when he spies the microphones amidst everything else. Wait, he owns more than one? There's like three of them around the room, all looking super different. Which one gets used most, he wonders. He can already imagine the singer dancing with a mic stand as his partner, whipping it around and belting passionately, lips so close to the mic...</p>
<p>The cat in his arms meows and snaps him out of it. He stoops low and lets the old thing down, shaking his imagination away and straightening with a grin.</p>
<p>"I love your setup! Look at all this, it's brilliant!"</p>
<p>Piers putters around, kicking coils of loose cable into marginally less in-the-way locations. Stagger finds a loop to sit in the middle of and yawns. "Eh, ain't much compared to my ideal studio, but it's what I've got."</p>
<p>"I don't see anything missing. Looks like you've got all the essentials. Good quality, too." There's something to be said about all this traditional music stuff that makes his tech at home feel like toys. Real guitars, real drums, boxy amps, actually caring about room acoustics. It's a whole other world.</p>
<p>"Essentials, that's the thing." Piers sighs and crouches to push an amp away from his small desk. "Got a few items on my wishlist," he grunts as he gives a final shove, "but I can't justify savin' up for 'em."</p>
<p>Saving up for music tools. Been a while since Raihan's had to do that. After making it big, the only questions he has to ask himself when ordering new gear is what day he wants it to arrive.</p>
<p>"I'd love to learn more about acoustic setups," he says, trying to play it innocent. "What sort of things are you wanting to add to yours?"</p>
<p>He gets a suspicious look regardless as Piers straightens up and kicks his stool into the cleared spot. "...Nothin' that's relevant to what we're doin'. Got everythin' we need right here."</p>
<p>Dammit. He'll have to find out one way or another. Buying Piers lunch is one thing. Gifting him something he can use long term? That would feel way better. Like he's actually contributing to Piers' livelihood.</p>
<p>"Hey, I was just curious." He sits when prompted. The seat's pretty short and his knees are bent out awkwardly, but it gives him a good view of everything. </p>
<p>"So, if we're gonna be recordin' my voice, we wanna use this mic here." Piers slips behind one that's already positioned perfectly at mouth level. "Best I've got for vocals. Others are better for other stuff."</p>
<p>Business already...?</p>
<p>Resignation edges into his voice. "Are we starting right away?"</p>
<p>"Why wouldn't we?"</p>
<p>
  <em> Because chatting with you is fun and I'd rather learn as much about you as possible than get straight to work. </em>
</p>
<p>Rather than speak his honest mind, he leans into his desires a bit more subtly, by casting the least discreet look he can towards the guitars in the corner. "I was just wondering if I could... push my luck while I'm here."</p>
<p>Not falling for the blatant line-of-sight prompting, Piers tilts his head back with a coy arch to his brow. "How so?"</p>
<p>Here goes nothing.</p>
<p>"Could you play something for me?" He points to the guitars. "I can't not ask for a performance when everything we need is right here. The instrument, the speakers, the soundproofed room... you."</p>
<p>The wide-eyed blink reminds him of a cat. Something something, owners looking like their pets.</p>
<p>"You... want me to play somethin' for you," Piers slowly repeats. "Didn't you hurry over wantin' to get shite done...?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, but how could I not ask after seeing all this?" He hunches lower on the stool and clasps his hands beneath his chin. One benefit of sitting down is gaining the optimal angle to unleash some real puppy eyes. "Pretty please? With as many cherries as you want on top."</p>
<p>"...At least a dozen," Piers sighs, and gently shoos the cat out of the room so he can close the door. "Real ones, too, none a' that gross maraschino shite."</p>
<p>The image of a knotted stem presented by a clever tongue flashes into his mind. "Hey, maraschino cherries are amazing. I love them."</p>
<p>"You can have all of mine, then, if I'm ever unfortunate enough to possess one." The pink guitar is the one Piers selects. He grabs it by the neck and carefully lifts it off its stand.</p>
<p>"I'll buy you a sundae just to get the cherry off it," he dreamily says, already fantasizing. A sundae, or no, better yet, a milkshake. One glass, two straws. Leaning close enough that they have no choice but to stare into each other's eyes as they sip. Hands sliding closer over the tabletop.</p>
<p>He'd reprimand himself for thinking that far ahead, but it's such a pretty picture that he congratulates himself for it instead.</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Piers chuckles and loops the strap over his shoulder. He doesn't bother pulling his hair out from underneath it, and Raihan contemplates what it'd be like to walk up and help with that. Step in all close, reach behind his neck... "I'd have to say no to that, sadly. Hate sweets."</p>
<p>Raihan files that information away. No sugary desserts. No ice cream dates. No Valentine's chocolates. Unless he likes his chocolate dark? He seems the type. How far away is February, anyways? Too far.</p>
<p>"Never played in front of an audience that wasn't my sister before..." A retrospective mumble snaps him out of his fantasizing. "Hand me that pick, will you?"</p>
<p>He spots the plectrum on the clutter of the desk and hands it over like it's made of gold. "I'm happy to be your first non-family audience. I'm seriously honored that you're doing this for me."</p>
<p>"Sure," Piers drawls, head hung in that way he does when he's embarrassed, but his hair isn't enough to hide the slight pink to his face. "Don't expect me to make a habit of givin' private performances. This is a special thing, alright? 'Cause you asked."</p>
<p>The subtle emphasis was on <em> you, </em> not <em> asked. </em> Giddiness runs rampant through his chest and it's almost impossible to sit still, especially when Piers' fingers rest over the strings and the light hum of the amp increases. He didn't even notice Piers plugging it in. The guitar rests so naturally on his frame, like Piers' whole aesthetic is only complete while the instrument is in his arms.</p>
<p>"Believe me," he breathes. "I do feel special."</p>
<p>Piers' blush gets worse. Bloke's so pale he can't hide shit, and Raihan's loving it. "Right, well... You might recognize this solo from my last single. Probably won't sound as good without all the drums 'n bassline backin' it, but... here goes."</p>
<p>The pick rolls between slender fingers until it barely peeks out of a practiced grip. Piers settles his other hand over the neck of the guitar, closes his eyes, and strums down each string until the full chord thrums through the air and prickles up Raihan's spine.</p>
<p>A foot starts to tap, two-tone bangs swing as a head bobs to an inaudible rhythm, and Piers, finally feeling himself, begins to play.</p>
<p>It's <em> arresting. </em></p>
<p>Now, Raihan's used to listening to music through the best headphones he can get his hands on. He even swaps out headsets depending on the type of music he's listening to, to take advantage of each pair's quirks to bring out the best in each song. He has it down to an art form, and relishes in the goosebumps born from achieving ultimate clarity and resonance. There's a specific pair he uses for Piers' music, and it's a match made in heaven in his opinion. But none of that audiophilic fussing prepared him for the experience of Piers playing live right in front of him.</p>
<p>Who cares that he's not sitting centered to the speakers. Who cares that the speakers themselves aren't top-shelf quality. This right here, in this cluttered room with just the two of them, feels like everything Piers is supposed to sound like.</p>
<p>Part of him wants to close his eyes and enjoy the solo to its fullest, but a stronger part of him keeps them open and unblinking to watch the musician work his magic. Because holy shit.</p>
<p>Hoooly shit.</p>
<p>Piers really doesn't know what he looks like when in the zone, does he. Raihan's phone is burning a hole in his pocket, begging to be pulled out to snap a few pictures. He'd love to get close-ups of everything, from the expression of easy enjoyment on Piers' face (he's almost smiling, eyes closed, head rocking, hair swinging), to the angles of adroit fingers on the strings, to the way the guitar masks Piers' body. The loose t-shirt he's wearing only makes him look more skinny but it really works for him right now.</p>
<p>Raihan doesn't think he can ever look at the curves of a guitar again without thinking about Piers' waistline.</p>
<p>It's over in a minute that he barely noticed the passage of. The music buzzes out, but it's the eye contact that cues him that the show is over. His foot's still tapping even after the solo ended. He sits up straighter and leans as far forward as he can without falling off the stool.</p>
<p>"That. Was the best thing I've seen in years," he says with complete, sincere seriousness.</p>
<p>Piers adjusts the guitar in his arms. "Come off it..."</p>
<p>"No, really! You're a natural on that thing, making it look so effortless! And you—I hope this won't make you self-conscious, but—you really look happy when you play. When you're in the zone like that. It's amazing to see."</p>
<p>"Shut your gob, I get it already." Piers stalks around the clutter to put his guitar up, cheeks a shade of pink that nearly matches the instrument. "Who cares what my face looks like."</p>
<p>
  <em> I do, because I wish I could see you like that all the time. </em>
</p>
<p>"That was the best guitar playing I've ever seen, I swear. I could watch you all day, mate!"</p>
<p>A harsh click of the tongue tries to silence him. "I know I ain't bad, but it's not worth all your clamor."</p>
<p>"It absolutely is," he objects and rises from the stool as Piers marches back to him. "I've been to concerts of all kinds, and I've never seen anyone play the way you do. It's hypnotizing. You belong on stage, mate!"</p>
<p>Some of the color drains from Piers' face and he takes a step back. "N-No way. I ain't fit for it."</p>
<p>"Why not?" Raihan challenges. "It's the easiest thing in the world for me to picture. You under a spotlight, rocking out up there without a care in the world. People would go crazy for you! Throw their panties up on stage and everything!"</p>
<p>"I just ain't one for the public, alright? All those people I might disappoint by fuckin' up, and... and all that pressure. And I'm not a fan of bright lights," Piers says, clutching his choker like a rosary. "Dreamin' about it's one thing. Maybe someday I could, but... no way could I do it anytime soon... No way..."</p>
<p>Shit. Shiiit. Great going, Raihan, really did a good job supporting him there, running that mouth without thinking.</p>
<p>He reaches out and hesitates before he can touch Piers' dangling wrist. "Hey... I didn't mean to stress you out. Just wanted to hype you up, you know?"</p>
<p>He'd love nothing more than to bring Piers in for a hug, but he remembers how well that went last time. Nearly spooked the guy.</p>
<p>Piers stares at his hovering hand. He goes ahead and brushes his fingertips up the inside of his pale wrist, and when Piers doesn't jerk away, curls his fingers around it. He doesn't know why he always targets this part of Piers' body. Second best thing to taking his hand, that's probably it...</p>
<p>"...I know. Sorry..." Piers sighs through clenched teeth. "It sounds stupid, doesn't it. I'd love to make it big but I can't even deal with the idea of bein' in front of crowds. Some rockstar I am, right?"</p>
<p>"It's not stupid at all. I totally get it." No reaction. Raihan licks his lips and scoots to the edge of the stool. "If you want to get used to performing in front of others, I'm more than happy to be your private audience. Just you and me. No pressure at all." He tugs Piers closer to where he's perched. "To be honest, I kind of like being the only one who gets to hear you live right now. Getting to pay attention to you all by myself. Pretty selfish, innit."</p>
<p>"N-No, not at all. It's, um." A pale finger slides through the hole of the choker's ring and hooks into it. "Playin' for you wasn't so hard. I think it did help. And... well..." Piers fidgets where he stands. "I don't really... mind. You bein' selfish, I mean. Just a little is alright..."</p>
<p>Raihan's chest expands in hope, that Piers meant something that'll make him very, very happy.</p>
<p>"Is that right?" He tugs him closer. Piers' knee bumps against his. "You don't mind all my attention on you?"</p>
<p>Piers bites the corner of his lip, chews on it, and nods. A pleased smile overtakes Raihan's face. He was right, that did make him very, <em> very </em> happy.</p>
<p>"Well then..." He chuckles and rubs his thumb along the inside of Piers' wrist. "Good thing I've got a lot of it to give. I think you deserve all of it."</p>
<p>This man deserves all the attention in the world. Raihan wants to be the one to give it to him, all the attention Piers could ever want. A stage spotlight might be too much for him right now, but the spotlight of Raihan's attention might be all he needs. Raihan wants to <em> be </em> everything Piers could ever need.</p>
<p>Piers pulls away—not too far away—and rubs his wrist. Not like he's trying to remove Raihan's touch. More like he's trying to rub it in.</p>
<p>Raihan's chest aches, just a little. Piers brings people home for one night stands, but when was the last time the guy had any real, affectionate touch? He doesn't seem the type to cuddle strangers after sex. Definitely too prideful for that (Raihan isn't, he'll cuddle if his partner for the night allows it). The way Piers lets him touch and grab makes him wonder if he could get away with more. They're not dating, but they are friends by now, he'd like to think, and what kind of friend would he be if he let Piers be lonely? Or touch-starved?</p>
<p>How long is long enough to wait before he can give the guy a hug without him shirking?</p>
<p>"Dunno about deservin' anything..."</p>
<p>"Regardless of what happens to you, I'll keep on supporting you. You <em> do </em> deserve attention, not just mine, but other people's too, you're amazing! You've got the skill and the talent, the charisma, and bloody hell mate, you've definitely got the looks. You just need some more confidence to round it all out!"</p>
<p>Piers sets his jaw. "If you're gonna insist on slatherin' praise on me, I'm allowed to throw back. I won't stand here and take it without sayin' nothing back."</p>
<p>Interesting diversion strategy. Pleasant surprise or not, whatever Piers is ramping up to say, he's heard it all before. After reading enough comments on his posts through the years, he knows what everyone notices about him. Hearing it from Piers will be special, though. He mentally kicks back and relaxes with a smile.</p>
<p>"Hit me, then, if you wanna change the subject so bad."</p>
<p>"Alright. As a person, you're crazy passionate and work crazy hard. All the shit you do ain't easy but you're out here pushin' through it anyways because you love what you do so much. And you're honest with me, and tell it like it is... call me out when I'm bein' an awkward arse without makin' me feel too patronized, which I appreciate. 'M not used to socializin' like this, or performin' for others, but you make it easy for me. Bein' such a warm and compassionate person. So." Piers pulls on his choker. "Thanks. For bein' you, I guess."</p>
<p>...Oh.</p>
<p>His headband is suddenly stifling around his ears, which are burning up along with the rest of his face. And his neck. And his whole body, fuck, is it hot in here or is it just him being overwhelmed by the most genuine compliments he's ever heard?</p>
<p>It's official. Piers has him by the heart. As soon as the time is right, he's going to ask this man out on a proper date. No one night stand shit, he's going to do this right. He needs Piers, needs to get closer to him, needs to know everything about him, needs to see what happens when they come together more than just creatively.</p>
<p>He'd confess his infatuation right now if some blessed kernel of sanity weren't warning him how stupid that would be. How crazy he'd look. It'd scare Piers off for sure. He needs to hold back.</p>
<p>In the meantime, he'll do his damnedest to be someone Piers can't say no to when the time comes.</p>
<p>Hopefully he can keep it together for that long, because damn, all it took was one genuine read on his personality to make him almost fall into a pile of overwhelmed pieces.</p>
<p>
  <em> Crazy passionate. Honest with me. Warm and compassionate. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Thanks for being you. </em>
</p>
<p>"I, uh..." He pushes out a laugh. "Wow. Uh. Think that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me, in... ever."</p>
<p>"Oh... well..." Piers mumbles and busies himself with shuffling to the microphone. "'S all true, so..."</p>
<p>"Uh..." He's at a complete loss right now. Still mentally floundering.</p>
<p>Piers clears his throat. "Breathy noises, you said you wanted over the phone?"</p>
<p>Oh! The song stuff! He nods and scoots back so he's not about to fall off the stool, grateful for the new course of action. "That's right."</p>
<p>A dry chuckle lifts the mood further out of the weird pit of intensity they were trapped in. "Sure is an interestin' thing to ask a bloke for. Thought we were makin' music, not ASMR."</p>
<p>Piers ASMR. Don't tempt him. Please, god, don't tempt him.</p>
<p>Now would be a good time to explain his idea. Piers went along with his out-of-the-blue requests thus far, but needs to know what's on his mind if they want to get somewhere with the collaboration. Which is the entire reason Raihan's in this room in the first place.</p>
<p>"Okay, so we know we want the song to be on the teasing side, right? Something fun to listen to? I kind of want to turn that around. Still fun to listen to, but also kind of torturous. Because the things you do with your voice, mate," he laughs. "Let's go full-on no mercy with it."</p>
<p>Piers chews on that for a second, and slowly nods. "So you wanna make the song version of a promotional sex tape." His tone isn't accusatory or suspicious. It's casual, maybe a little amused. "Alright. Why not."</p>
<p>He pumps his fist in victory. "Yes! If it doesn't pan out we can try something else. I just really, really want to see how much we can use your voice like the sexy weapon it is. Oh, this is going to be brilliant!"</p>
<p>A brief snort yanks him from his creative rush. Was that... a laugh? Piers' hand lowers from his mouth and he clears his throat. That was totally a laugh. He can't believe he missed seeing it. </p>
<p>Piers weaves past him to mess with the computer on the desk. "If I'm gonna be the weapon, then you're the one with your finger on my trigger," he muses.</p>
<p>Raihan wishes this room had better air circulation, because he's getting kind of hot under his hoodie.</p>
<p>"Sounds like good lyrics," he weakly says.</p>
<p>Piers only hums.</p>
<p>The single monitor blinks alive and Piers clicks through the open DAW. Raihan tries to be subtle about peering around long bangs to get a better look at whatever project is currently open. What he wouldn't give to sit down and pore over those work files... His limited view becomes useless when Piers shortcuts his way to a brand new project, futzes with a few more things, and, finally satisfied, pushes away.</p>
<p>"I'll get you your ASMR later, let's focus on the more nuanced stuff while you're here. For example... those moan samples." Long fingers slide up the pole of the mic stand and Raihan's thoughts flip upside down. "Want me to sound like I'm gettin' exactly what I want, or like I'm taken off guard by how good things feel?"</p>
<p>Something tells him he should have gotten his last will and testament sorted before coming here. Piers half killed him already in the short time he's been here.</p>
<p>"Uh... The ah, first one." Keep it together, Raihan. "I was picturing something like... like a temptation sort of thing, like, hello there, step into my world and I'll blow your mind if you get on your knees and obey me, if... that makes sense."</p>
<p>Wow, that all came out of nowhere. He can count on his brain to whip up new fantasies out of thin air. Piers is nodding, taking it seriously, brows lowered in thought. Finger tapping the mic stand.</p>
<p>"And you want to put some teasing sounds in there along with whatever vocals I come up with? Both courtesy of yours truly?"</p>
<p>"Yeah! Like, I want to cut them up short enough to make people question if they're hearing what they think they're hearing. I don't want to be <em> too </em> obvious about it. I want to make this song a fun tease."</p>
<p>"I can get behind that... Yeah. Yeah, I like it, I can write some good subtle lyrics for that. His hand draws lower down the stand. "Shameless, but still classy... Sounds like fun." Piers cracks his neck (Raihan marvels at the number of pops) and gestures lazily at the computer on the desk. "Hit record and let's get started. Shouldn't be hard to get you a few things you like."</p>
<p>The reality of what he's about to hear charges up behind him like a bull. It's almost enough to make him panic and say nevermind, you can record in private, but the little devil on his shoulder gleefully slams his hand on the mouse and clicks that little red circle.</p>
<p>Whatever happens to him, happens.</p>
<p>Pale lips part, a breath is taken, and whatever sound comes out misses his ears entirely and instead goes straight to his dick and now he is panicking a little, because the last thing he needs is his 'little dragon' waking up while he's wearing the worst kind of pants to conceal it. Raihan throws his brain to the most sterilized things he possibly can. Cleaning his keyboard by turning it upside down and shaking the bits out. Hitting his head against door frames and low ceilings. Freelance taxes. Paperwork. Paperclips, sticky notes, pens...</p>
<p>...The pen.</p>
<p>
  <em> Fucking god dammit. </em>
</p>
<p>A question perforates his thoughts.</p>
<p>"Sorry, what?"</p>
<p>"I said, how was that," Piers needles. "Too boring for you?"</p>
<p>"Oh. No, I..." He nervously chuckles and adjusts his headband. "I wasn't really listening too hard. Sorry."</p>
<p>The scoff and eye roll he gets somehow makes his heart beat harder instead of injecting any shame into him. Why is derision so sexy coming from Piers?</p>
<p>"If you're havin' trouble listenin', then close your eyes and focus. I don't wanna be roleplayin' a phone sex operator all evening, much as you'd enjoy that, I'm sure."</p>
<p>His face heats something fierce. "N-No! I mean," he desperately scrabbles for a recovery when Piers raises a brow, "if you were a phone sex operator, I'd stay on the line and pay attention all night, promise!"</p>
<p>
  <em> Did you seriously just say that to him. </em>
</p>
<p>"...You've really got a funny way of complimentin' my voice."</p>
<p>He wants to hide. Forever. It'd be easy to pull his headband over his eyes, play a game of <em> since I can't see you, you can't see me. </em> But there is no hiding. He's stuck on a stool, in a little crowded room, alone with a man who might as well be holding a magnifying glass for how much he feels under scrutiny.</p>
<p>Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Only thing to do is come clean and pray that Piers understands, no matter how embarrassing it is to admit.</p>
<p>"I just really like your voice." No use pretending otherwise. He gives up, to hell with it! "This is gonna sound obsessive as hell, but I could barely listen to you sing on that recording we have without getting all... affected. And then this?" He defeatedly waves his hand at the room. "I'm weak for what you've got, alright?"</p>
<p>Everything that Piers has got. Not just his voice and looks. The sensual stuff is killer, but the other things, the way he smiles, the way he makes Raihan feel like himself again, his little insecurities and coarse attitude and how gentle he sounds when talking about his sister or his pet cat and how harsh he sounds when talking about himself. The way he can lay a fucking compliment down like a guillotine slash. Everything. Raihan's weak for all of it.</p>
<p>"Weak for me, huh... And you still want to make a song that pushes that," Piers muses. He sounds way too satisfied with the concept of having sway over Raihan, and it's... honestly, kind of hot. "Answer me this, then."</p>
<p>He nods, already expecting the worst and maybe looking forward to it a little. Piers taps his fingers atop the mic.</p>
<p>"Are you masochistic? Or are you just really horny, or really hopeless."</p>
<p>He bluntly answers. "A mix of all three, I suppose."</p>
<p>Piers bursts into laughter. The sound is clear as can be in a room meant to kill any echoes, and the raspiness of it winds around Raihan's chest and lifts him up to the goddamn stratosphere.</p>
<p>He did it. He made Piers laugh. Genuinely laugh! He's more than willing to make himself look like a fool a thousand times over if it makes Piers smile like that.</p>
<p>"Holy shit, Rai," he wheezes. "You are one of a kind."</p>
<p>That's a good thing, right? Is Piers complimenting him again? He rubs his palms over his thighs and chuckles in return, but not too loudly, since he'd much rather glean every bit of Piers' laughter into his ears while it lasts.</p>
<p>"Tell you what," Piers says after suppressing his chuckles. "I'll record everythin' on my own to spare you any special troubles."</p>
<p>"That... might be best, yeah."</p>
<p>"You do whatever you want with the files once I send 'em over. Hell, if you jerk off to 'em, I'll consider it a compliment." Piers gives him an exaggerated once-over. "Handsome guy like yourself, fawning over little old me? Color me flattered."</p>
<p>His throat spasms for something to choke on and finds nothing, so it improvises by forcing him to cough.</p>
<p>This is his limit. Time to go. He's gotten enough of Piers within these past couple hours to be high for a week and then some. He's got to cut himself off for his own sake.</p>
<p>"Right!" His hands slap onto his thighs and he pushes himself standing. "Well, I don't want to take up too much of your time. You were in the middle of a nap before I called, yeah? You look like you could use more sleep, so I'll leave you be and you can have a kip."</p>
<p>Piers arches a brow. "Thanks for remindin' me how dead I look."</p>
<p>He sputters and tries to reassure that no, he doesn't look that bad, and besides, even if he did, dead is kind of a good look on him. Midway through it, Piers cracks a smirk and lightly shoves at his arm. "Was jokin'. Relax. I don't mind you takin' up my time."</p>
<p>
  <em> I will take up as much as you let me. </em>
</p>
<p>"I'll still leave you alone. If you let me stay I'll never want to leave," he tries to tease with confidence.</p>
<p>His breathing stops when he catches the slightest flicker of serious contemplation on Piers' face.</p>
<p>"Hm... Better head out, then."</p>
<p>Exhale. Heart can beat again. Yeah.</p>
<p>Piers fusses with something at his computer and waves for Raihan to start walking ahead. He passes the cat in the hallway, hobbling along. Its feather duster tail brushes against his leg. Lucky thing, getting to be fawned over by its lovely owner.</p>
<p>A rush of socked footsteps turns him around before he can reach the front door.</p>
<p>"Wait. I've got somethin' for ya." Piers slides to a stop.</p>
<p>Like a gift? A present, for him? From Piers? He smiles and faces him square, doing his best to not look too excited. Piers stands alarmingly shy, knees rubbing with his feet trying to be on top of each other, brushing his bangs aside while his other arm is stiff behind his back.</p>
<p>"It's nothin' big. Just..." He shuffles closer and Raihan's heart goes wild. It couldn't be a kiss goodbye. Just a peck on the cheek to send him off would make Raihan's whole week. Obviously, that's not what happens. A tiny plastic thing is pressed into his palm, and he closes his hand a little too quickly, enough to catch Piers' fingertips in his grasp before they slip away.</p>
<p>It's a USB stick. Shiny and still with a sticker on it.</p>
<p>"Almost forgot I put that together for ya late last night. It's just copies of my files from my latest album," Piers mutters at a fast clip. "Cleaned 'em up so they'd be easier to work with."</p>
<p>...Late last night. Cleaned them up. That must have taken hours, did Piers stay up late just to make this for him?</p>
<p>Raihan's hand closes around the plastic hard enough for the corners to dig into his palm, just to feel how real it is.</p>
<p>"Ya don't have to do anythin' with 'em. I know you said you had plans for a whole remix album of my stuff but that's a huge undertakin' and I understand if you wouldn't wanna—"</p>
<p>Piers' next words muffle into his chest.</p>
<p>"Thank you! Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou!" He can't help it. He straightens up and lifts Piers off the ground in a tight bear hug, and before he can push his luck any further than that, sets the man down and pats his shirt straight. "I'll treasure this, I swear I'll make the best things you've ever heard! I'll blow your little bobby socks right off!"</p>
<p>Piers staggers back, jaw hanging open and face scarlet and fuck if he doesn't look so kissable right now. He's adorable when he's shocked. And adorable when rankled. And when he smiles, and when he laughs. Adorable any time of the day. "You—Get outta here! I'll email you the recordings from today once I've cleaned 'em up, so sod off and let me work!"</p>
<p>He laughs and does push his luck, with one more touch. Just a clap on the shoulder and a jovial shake. "Will do, mate. Text me whenever! About anything!"</p>
<p>"I know I can." Piers can gripe and grumble all he wants, there's no hiding that beautiful blush, and no hiding the way he does nothing to shake Raihan's hand off. "Phone addict."</p>
<p>Raihan walks backwards towards the door and blindly gropes for the knob. "See you next time! At my place, maybe? Text me, remember!"</p>
<p>"Fuck off already!"</p>
<p>"I—<em>ow,</em> fuck, I'm going!" He rubs the back of his head where it clunked against the door frame and ducks outside. That's definitely going to bruise.</p>
<p>A stifled laugh slips through the crack of the closing door, punctuated by the slam and the snap of multiple locks.</p>
<p>The thumb drive in Raihan's hand is the only witness to his elated, breathless grin. He tosses it up and catches it and hops down all the front steps at once.</p>
<p>He's never been more happy to fuck off in his life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. To Be Wanted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahoy! Back to Piers once more!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"See you next time! At my place, maybe? Text me, remember!" Raihan backs away with such elation on his face it makes Piers horribly self-conscious. That fucking hug already rocked his world and these bright smile aftershocks are keeping him from stabilizing.</p><p>All he did was pass over one little USB stick... Yeah, he stayed up all night getting it ready, but Raihan doesn't know that.</p><p>"Fuck off already!" He spits, cursing just as hot as his face is.</p><p>"I—<em>ow</em>, fuck, I'm going!"</p><p>Piers' eyes widen at the loud <em> thunk </em> of skull on door frame. Raihan's been tall his whole life, hasn't he? How the hell did he forget to duck? What a klutz. Unable to help a chuckle, Piers sweeps after and shuts the door right on Raihan's heels and twists and slides each lock into place.</p><p>Silence in his home once again. This is what he wanted, but it feels a bit cavernous in here with Raihan's exuberance no longer bouncing off the walls. Funny how Raihan's absence makes even this cramped space seem empty once he's gone.</p><p>Those last few meaningful words echo in his head as he pads down the hall, pausing only to scoop Stagger up into his arms.</p><p>
  <em> Text me, remember! </em>
</p><p>That wasn't the first time Raihan's insisted he be texted about non-collaboration things. The way he said it really makes it sound like the bloke wouldn't mind if Piers blew up his phone with nonsense any hour of the day.</p><p>Maybe he should consider sending Raihan some faff now and again. Not like he has many other people to talk to. Marnie's the only one he keeps in regular contact with, and he tries to stay out of her hair because she's got school to focus on, and her own social life to attend to. She doesn't need a big brother hovering over her shoulder even if it's through her phone.</p><p>One benefit of texting Rai on the regular is that he won't have to worry about body language, or what's on his face, or be on guard for any more surprise hugs, or get distracted by how handsome Raihan's smile is or the way that long incisor sticks out a bit to make the whole thing charmingly crooked. Texting is safer, and not just for him.</p><p>Raihan and his bloody obvious infatuation... Much as Piers might find it novel, and kind of nice, to be idolized, it can't be good for Raihan. They both need the space to keep clear heads when talking to each other. Hell, talking through a screen might even snap the guy out of his fanboyism. Piers really isn't someone to moon over and he's fully expecting Raihan to snap out of it sooner or later and start seeing him for what he actually is. An exhausted wannabe rockstar who tries too hard at things not meant for him.</p><p>This'll be fun while it lasts, at least.</p><p>Piers sets his cat down and drops onto the stool in front of his computer. For now he's got to focus. He's got an easy enough task, recording himself sounding like he's having the time of his life, this time without the distraction of a telephone-pole, starry-eyed supermodel watching his every move.</p><p>...</p><p>Doesn't matter that Raihan isn't here anymore. Recording is a hell of a job when that eager face pops into Piers' head every time he closes his eyes and takes a breath. How's he supposed to get these sounds out without thinking of him?</p><p>Halfway into it, he gives up, because fuck it, a muse is a muse.</p><p>Recording gets disturbingly easy once he welcomes Raihan into his thoughts, sighing into the mic and picturing what the man's reaction might be to every sound that slips from him. A smattering of sighs, a variety of moans ranging from subtle to shameless, and gasps of every pitch that he has to slow down in recording, because all the sharp breathing makes him lightheaded.</p><p>Once he's captured a bountiful enough buffet of bedroom noises, he stands there at the mic, shifting his weight, and takes a final breath. Unplanned and unrehearsed, he speaks as if leaving a private voicemail, voice on the husky side after putting it through so many paces.</p><p>"I don't wanna know if you've got your hand down your pants right now. Keep it a mystery for me, love. Have fun with all this."</p><p>End recording.</p><p>...Fuck, did he have to include that endearment? It just rolled off the tongue, he couldn't help it, but now he's second-guessing himself. Yeah, it was meant as a tease, and he's thrown a 'love' around just as much as anyone else, but it feels strangely intimate in this case.</p><p>The whole time he's running all the audio through the computer to tidy up the sound and cut out all the dead space, he debates cutting out that 'love.' Tries it. Listens. Realizes that no matter how careful he is about the cut-off, the lilt of his <em> mystery for me </em> makes it obvious that another word is meant to follow and there's no way Raihan wouldn't notice that he clipped something out. Better to play it off as a tease, because yeah, that's all it is. Just a casual tease of a term of endearment. Nothing actually fond, no sir.</p><p>So he leaves it in, holds his breath, and exports a file he can send. Email is best. Nice and quick.</p><p>Stagger meows from the floor and Piers mindlessly heaves him up to squash his lap while he constructs this email. God, he hasn't sent one of these socially in ages... His inbox is full of gig inquiries and the occasional email notification of him getting an online sale of either song or merch. They're all right there in his inbox because he never deletes them. He probably should though, since looking at the time gaps between each sale makes him want to cringe. The most recent one is the double purchase from Raihan of his latest (still limping) album.</p><p>Back to business... Attach file, subject line <em>ASMR samples,</em> cheeky enough. Won't bother with a body. Recipient... oh. Right. Looks like his first text to Raihan won't be fluff after all. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>oi</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Piers, hey!! Wow I wasn't expecting you to text me tonight, how are you? What's up?</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>need your email address</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>to send you the stuff i recorded</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Oh! Right, right haha, forgot about that</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>So you're done already? That's amazing!</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I'll give you my personal address instead of any of my work ones</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Okay so, don't judge me, I made this account when I was like 16 and hung onto it ever since</span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span><span class="u">dragon.master.raihan@gmail.com</span></span>
  </p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Dragon what...? Piers cracks a smirk and hovers his thumbs over the screen, wanting to ask several questions at once, but ultimately chooses to set the phone aside and let the incoming email be his answer.</p><p>Once it's sent, he leaves the studio, cat in arms and phone in hand, wondering what the best way might be to start texting Raihan 'about anything.'</p><p>- - -</p><p>Turns out there is no 'best way' because the next day an array of random questions may or may not have pushed a few of his buttons regarding topics he's quite passionate about.</p><p>He also may or may not have filled the screen with ranting before he realized what he was doing, but didn't slow down because he already committed and hates a weak finish, dammit. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>....dude i just asked if you ever kept the radio on while driving</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>You could have just said you don't drive</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> He bites his lip and taps the bezel of his phone. He might have gone a little overboard there, but in his defense, Raihan asked for it, and in his offense, he very much did it on purpose.</p><p>Nothing wrong with a little vetting, right? To see if Raihan really won't be annoyed by his random shite. If that spiel was too much then at least they won't have been texting for long before the bloke starts tapering off on responding.</p><p>Either way, there's a bright side. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>......not backin down on anything ive said</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Hahaha &lt;3</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I love it tho!</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Ngl I could listen to you rant all day</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> That little heart. What does that mean. Reassurance? A show of affection?</p><p>Forget it, he doesn't want to spare the time for overthinking an emoticon when he can chalk it up to Raihan's own brand of charm. The important thing here is that Rai wasn't put off by his zeal in text format.</p><p>But he could just be saying that to be polite... <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>you sure bout that m8</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>dunno if you know what youre really askin for</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Absolutely positively I do!</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I wanna get to know you more, outside of our project time, you know? You're really fun to be around</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Piers rereads that last message several times over. He's what...? No. That's a big load of scrambled bollocks served with a glass of freshly taken piss. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>youre the fun one not me</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>but whatever, fine</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>if youre askin for it then i won't hold back on anythin</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>!!! ;D 🔥🔥🔥</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>:D*</span></p>
</div><p>- - -</p><p>It doesn't matter how much he resists. Texting Raihan becomes a highlight of his day. He's never been so chatty in his life. He thinks he's opened up more to Raihan over these texts than he has to every other person he's known throughout his entire life. Even Marnie.</p><p>The times they text about their project become less and less frequent, while the times they text about any and everything are on the rise. What's also gotten more frequent are the times he's brave enough to start conversations on his own. Whenever he can't procure a good opener he falls back on the classic: sending a picture of his cat. A flood of heart-eyed emojis reliably comes cascading back, and after that it's easy enough for the words to start rolling. Conversations are fast-paced and never stumble thanks to Raihan's energy and strange ability to guide the flow whenever he senses the current topic has run its course. Impressive, and kind of scary, if Piers is being honest. He's no social wizard himself but Raihan makes it so easy to put himself out there and communicate openly.</p><p>Part of it, he knows, is that Rai never makes him feel ignored or that his words are undervalued. It's strange to talk to someone who actually <em> listens </em> and not only reads the words but tone and intent as well, to the point that they might as well be chatting face to face with how well the man picks up on every invisible cue. He can be himself, and say what he pleases, how he pleases, without worry. Fucking wild.</p><p>Oh, and did he mention that Rai's a fast texter? Not just in typing speed, but those read receipts pop up near instantly.</p><p>Raihan's ability to respond in a flash is both impressive and... a bit concerning. Either he never puts his phone down, like a true social media addict, and responds to every notification that passes through, or—and this is criminally indulgent to consider—Raihan only responds this fast when Piers texts him.</p><p>The idea that he might be special is preposterous. Also kind of plausible. Preposterous because who in their right mind would place such priority in prompt responses, and plausible because so far, Raihan's demonstrated nothing but dedication to doing just that.</p><p>The longest Raihan's taken to respond to him is twenty minutes, and that was because the man was in the shower, which he stated as part of his apology for taking so long. Piers pictured him dripping and naked in the bathroom, not even drying his hands before snatching up the phone and texting back (and he shut that visual down as soon as his mind tried filling in too many details).</p><p>It would be flattering if it weren't a little worrisome. From anyone else, such rapid responses would read as a bit... well. Desperate. There's no way someone like Raihan would ever be desperate for anything, though. He's got the looks, the popularity. People are no doubt tripping into his social media DMs day in and day out.</p><p>Still, though... Piers can't shake the sense that the guy's actually kind of lonely. He's gotten flashes of the feeling before, in the way Raihan looks at his own selfies, the kinds of smiles he posts online, the way he reacted when Piers threw down an inspired compliment last time they were face to face. The social media posts are particularly telling; Raihan's got a very particular smile for those. It's the same one every time, presumably crafted after years of meticulous selfie-taking. Same spread of the lips, same show of teeth, same crinkle of the eyes. It's a handsome smile, enough to make anyone weak in the knees, and the pictures are all taken from varying angles and distances and lighting to make each image unique, but when compared to the vivid, unrestrained expressions Piers has the privilege of seeing in real life, the ones posted online seem lacking.</p><p>He can respect the need to have a carefully-constructed online presence, but it's just such a wild difference. The Raihan who looks like he's got everything he could ever want, who's unconcerned with how much people want him, and the Raihan who texts back so fast it's like Piers is the only thing in the world he wants.</p><p>(Part of him wants to see just how far the other man will go in his determination to be prompt, but that would be pretty shite of him, to steal so many moments of Rai's life away. There are a few blocks of the day where Piers refuses to text, such as the hours around lunch, and early in the morning, and any time after midnight. He's not so selfish as to take advantage of the generous time and attention Raihan is willing to throw at him. Besides, he hardly knows what to do with even the concept that someone might want him this much.)</p><p>Abstract meta speculation aside, the conversations they have are enjoyable to them both, he'd like to think. Their personalities mesh better than he ever would have guessed. They're compatible more than just physically.</p><p>And yeah, there's no getting around that part of their weird relationship. Raihan ogles him like he's the sexiest thing alive, which is funny, since Piers considers himself to be on the corpsy side when it comes to his looks. The tall wanker ain't half-bad either, which is Piers' way of saying he looks like bloody freaking Adonis, if Adonis wore size thirteens, donned tacky university memorabilia despite being graduated, and bonked his head on door frames on a semi-regular basis.</p><p>Raihan's raw sex appeal is only enhanced by how much of a doof he can be. He's an incredibly sharp man, don't get Piers wrong, but he's such an unapologetic dork when it comes to music. And he's so teasable, and sweet enough to make Piers' teeth ache, and most notably, he actually holds back when it comes to his attraction towards Piers.</p><p>Is it weird to be grateful for it? Because he is.</p><p>He certainly wouldn't mind a tangle in the sheets—guy would probably make it a night to remember and Piers would love to see how he blushes when cornered against a wall with a hand slipping into his shorts—but Piers kind of enjoys this stasis of mutual attraction. He doesn't want sex just yet and he knows exactly why.</p><p>Sex is always a closer. The endgame. Every time someone's wanted to chase him and he let them win and have their prize, that was the end of the game. They left the morning after, oftentimes not sticking around to spend the night at all, dragged their clothes on, and stumbled out of his house never to be seen again.</p><p>He can't let that happen with Raihan. He wants Raihan to stick around. To keep chasing. Except Raihan isn't chasing, not really. Just lingering behind the starting line, looking wistfully at the track. The man doesn't know it, but he wouldn't have to run far; Piers would be within arm's reach after only a single step. But here he is, holding back.</p><p>Piers knows, logically, that Raihan wouldn't lost interest in him if they did have sex (and how insane is that, that it's logic instead of a gut feeling). Rai seems to want more than just his body, and more than to just be close to someone he idolizes. If Piers were to be daring, he'd say that Raihan genuinely wants to be friends.</p><p>Oh. One other thing about Raihan not chasing his tail despite wanting to so badly is that it enables some sort of... inverse playing-hard-to-get scenario that only makes Piers think even harder about what it'd be like to finally bed the guy. Rai's his type, no doubt about that. And he's got soft hands, and a nice laugh, and... god, his eyes are beautiful. Easily weaponized too, when paired with a pleading pout. Raihan could get anything he wanted from anyone with charisma like that, and here he is, wanting Piers of all people.</p><p>Piers sighs up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom.</p><p>They're both adults who are capable of communication. They could easily talk to each other about the horny elephant in the room that is their mutual hard-ons for each other, but like hell is he going to admit how much he wants Raihan to grab him with those giant hands and kiss him silly.</p><p>One of the first hard lessons he learned growing up was how useless it was to want things, especially people. Wanting people is dangerous, no matter how that want is shaped. As a kid in the system there were adults he wanted to take him and his sister. People his age he wanted to be friends with. Wanted to get close to. There were people he wanted to fall in love with, or wanted to have fall in love with him. Throughout his life he's had so many wants and so little haves. No actual parents, no real friends. All his romantic endeavors were always either disregarded or spurned or they would fizzle out early on because people lost interest after the thrill of the chase was gone.</p><p>There's something different about the circumstances around this new want, though.</p><p>This time around it's not just him one-sidedly thirsting away. This time, the person he desires wants him too. Has wanted him <em> first, </em> maybe in more ways than one. Maybe. Maybe not.</p><p>He still can't say how Raihan might want him other than physically, and maybe, <em> maybe </em> platonically, but ain't it strange that he's wanted at all? Someone's coming after him for once instead of the other way around and he doesn't know how to handle it other than going along for the ride.</p><p>He's a selfish bastard for enjoying it this much. Even if he knows—thinks, hopes, prays—that Raihan won't lost interest and leave him once given what he wants, he'll do his best to keep the chase going. Just in fucking case.</p><p>"What do you think, Stagger?" He sighs and picks up his head from his pillow, staring down his own chest. The squinty eyes of his cat blink at him from the messy nest of blankets between his legs. "Yeah, didn't think so."</p><p>Piers sits up with cracking joints and pushes his hair out of his face, holding it against his forehead as he squints at the digital clock on the dresser across the room.</p><p>6:31 in the goddamn morning. He's been staring at the ceiling thinking about Raihan for god knows how long. That's not something anyone does if they've got neutral feelings towards a person.</p><p>Might as well get ready for work. He's got a good morning text to send once he's there, and as long as he's sneaky about checking his phone, whatever nonsense conversation they end up having will be enough to keep him sane throughout the workday.</p><p>- - -</p><p>
  <span class="hide">
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I just don't get nightcore man</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Why does it get to be called its own genre when all you have to do is speed up an existing song? Can it really be called a genre if theoretically every song ever has a potential foot in the nightcore realm? Beethoven can become nightcore. It's an adjective not a genre</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>arent all genres adjectives though?</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Piers: </b> </span>country music. "country" counts as an adj on "music"</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Piers surreptitiously slips his phone back into his pocket as his vulture of a manager glides by. Once the coast is clear and there's no customers he has to pretend to be friendly to, he tugs it back out. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Language lessons from a lyricist, ha ha</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Look all I'm saying is there is no such thing as original nightcore music. It's all built off other things existing first and I swear it's so lazy, like ooo let me grab someone else's music, speed it up slightly, and repost it as a "remix" and rake in the views after effectively doing *nothing* to the music</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>There's no! such thing! as an original nightcore song! It doesn't get to be a genre!</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Piers stifles a snort and shoots off his reply without pausing to think about what to say. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>im sorry mate but this is hilarious</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>youve gotten on me for being pretentious but look at you now</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>big fat hypocrite you are</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Okay</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>You know what</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>no, what?</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>You! Okay</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>We both get a pass on getting to complain about stuff then. You can bitch about your acoustic artistry all you want if I get to voice my honest and noble critiques regarding my own music culture. Like nightcore being lazy, or hatsune miku's grip on the electronic pop idol scene</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>wow double standard much</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>hang on did you just talk bad about miku</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> ...He regrets that. He regrets it so hard, oh, god, please let that have come off as sarcasm. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Oh</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>My god</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Do Not tell me you've been a miku stan this whole time</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I can't believe this</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I never would have thought you'd even know her name!</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>shut up</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>everyones heard of miku</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>im allowed to like things outside my wheelhouse ok? she's cute that's all</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Uhuh. "That's all" my arse</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I'm gonna need a moment to recover from this monumentous news. Feels like I've hardly known you at all! Who even are you, mate!</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>someone who plays meaningless rhythm games on their phone and thought the blue haired girl in some of the promotional music packs had a catchy thing going</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>WAIT WAIT WAIT</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> "Excuse me, sir?"</p><p>Fuck, his time is up. Piers shoves his phone into his uniform pocket and tosses his head to face a customer with a plastic smile that barely qualifies as friendly. Once he's taken care of their rambled needs and he's sure no one is watching, his mask drops and he retreats once more into the haven that is Raihan's text thread.</p><p>The question waiting for him has him furrowing his brows. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>You like playing music games? Have you ever played DDR? Just curious</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>...no? you mean the thing with the arrows right</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>What lol</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>You've NEVER played Dance Dance Revolution. Not once in your life?</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>We need.</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>To get your arse.</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>To an arcade.</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>what? no im not goin to a bloody arcade</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Come on!! It'll be fun! I can show you how it's done!</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>you just wanna show off</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Maybe a little ;) I'm something of a DDR god, if I do say so myself</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> It wouldn't be delusional to say that sounded like a date. Piers chews on a corner of his lip. It could also just be a friendly hang-out. It could be whatever they want it to be; they're in that weird limbo state, after all, of knowing there could be something between them if only their music project didn't come first and Piers weren't a master of paranoia-driven self-restraint.</p><p>He takes the route of not giving a solid answer right away. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>is it those long legs of yours that makes hittin every arrow thing so easy</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Yes, actually! I won't deny that long legs come in handy sometimes.</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>(or come in footy sometimes?)</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>(awful)</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>must be so nice, good for you</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Aw cmon baby you don't like my long beautiful legs?</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Piers flushes and his nails clack against the screen in his haste to respond. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>you know i was being sarcastic</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I wanna hear you say it ;)</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Fuck him and his cheesy-arse flirting. Got no right to work this well. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>yes o great raihan i so very much adore thine gorgeous legs. michelangelo really outdid himself chiselin those up for you</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Thaaank you. Yours are nice too. And I bet they could play DDR just fine</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> Of course Raihan doesn't let the arcade thing drop... Piers mutters under his breath and nearly fires something petty back, but he spots a manager circling closer and resigns himself to focusing for the rest of his shift. Just one more text, then he'll have to drop it. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>i'll think about it</span>
  </p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> It's not until he gets off his shift exhausted with his tank of patience running on fumes, that he's able to read whatever Raihan sent in response. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>🔥🔥🔥❤️🔥</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>wait oops my thumb slipped</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Oh well. Free heart for you ;) you look like you could use a little extra</span></p>
</div><p><span class="hide"><br/></span> <em>Bastard.</em></p><p>The whole commute home Piers had to deal with the fact that Raihan was bang-on right about that, and distracted himself by turning his thoughts to the notebook waiting for him at home, brimming with fresh ideas that seemed to spring up every time his new maybe-friend spoke to him.</p><p>- - -</p><p>After about a week of the same routine—wake up, ponder life, go to work, text Raihan, come home feeling inspired, work on lyrics—Piers has finally come up with a version of a song that he's happy with. It's exactly what Raihan told him he wanted. Something teasing, on the erotic side, but not <em> too </em> blatant. And it's not just lyrics. There's also an entire melody to go along with them. And a bassline. And some chords.</p><p>In the grip of inspiration he ended up constructing a whole-arse song as if he was working solo without a project partner to consider, and rather than ditch all the content he made he might as well take the whole thing over in case Raihan likes more than just the words. Who knows.</p><p>All it takes is a single text of <em> I'm done with the lyrics </em> for Raihan to want to meet up immediately, and here they are, in his bedroom once again. It's even cleaner than it was last time, and the hoodie Raihan's wearing this time is a snugger affair that shows off the ridiculous taper of his waist (that Piers stared at the entire walk up the stairs).</p><p>"So... what do you think?"</p><p>He fidgets where he stands, staring over Raihan's shoulder at the notebook held in his large hands. It's so strange to see someone else's fingers over the paper. Manicured, clean, buffed nails instead of black polish that's chipped to hell.</p><p>He knows Raihan isn't just looking over the lyrics, and the longer his collaboration partner stares at all the progress made without him, the more Piers regrets.</p><p>"Wow. You really wrote an entire song..." Raihan reverently flips to the next page to check for more, discovers the whole other page and a half of work, and whistles. "I turn my back for a week and you come up with all this. You're mad!"</p><p>He cringes. "Sorry for gettin' ahead of myself... We don't have to use anythin' other'n the words. And maybe the main melody. But everythin' else can go, I ain't too attached to it." Lies. "It's just a rough draft anyways, and if you don't care for any of it, just tell me so I can make it better."</p><p>He trails off when Raihan reaches for a pen on his desk. It's the same one he left behind on purpose last time he was here. He shouldn't be surprised Raihan kept it.</p><p>The pen twiddles between two fingers. "Mind if I write on this? I can already see a bunch of things I need to make note of and I've got to get them all down!"</p><p>That puts the brakes on Piers' anxious line of thinking. Not in a good way. Not a good way at all, because oh, god, Rai's got so many criticisms he needs to mark them all down on <em> paper. </em> Like he wants to make sure Piers remembers it all. As if he needs any help remembering every crumb of criticism thrown his way throughout his pathetic life. If he had pen and paper of his own right now he could list them all in chronological order, and at the very end he could just point to whatever's been written by Raihan onto his music.</p><p>"Sure," he says, more evenly than he thought himself capable of. "Mark it up all ya want."</p><p>"Thanks! Oh, man, give me a minute, sorry but I need to put my head down for a bit." He sounds so grateful for the opportunity. Pen meets paper with no hesitation and Piers has to look away.</p><p>"Oh, interesting..." Raihan says under his breath, and circles something.</p><p>Rapid disintegration sounds like a great next step. He might even do his host a favor and step outside to save the trouble of sweeping up the miserable pile of dust he'd like to crumble into. Too bad he's got no choice but to stand here and bear the weight of his continued existence while Raihan keeps writing and writing and writing. The light scratch of ballpoint grates his ears.</p><p>Whatever the critiques are, they won't be too bad, right? Raihan's a fan of his stuff at the end of the day, and just wants to help him be better. Plus he's not a cruel bloke, and they're not just project partners at this point, are they? They're far friendlier than that, so whatever's coming should be tolerable. He needs to have a little faith in his friend.</p><p>Piers smacks his mind's hand for dipping into the cookie jar of wishful thinking.</p><p>They are not friends yet. As much as he might like the idea (god, he loves it), it feels wrong to just assume they might be that close. The times they've hung out were to work on their project. They chat and banter over text, but that can't be enough basis for actual friendship. They <em> have </em> hugged... or rather, Raihan's hugged him. Just once. In a friendly way. But that doesn't mean they're friends.</p><p>He skulks off to sit on the bed, intending to preemptively lick his wounds so his pride doesn't take too much damage when the time comes.</p><p>A whole ten minutes pass of Raihan marking up the paper, tapping the pen against his mouth, and tilting his head this way and that. Even when doing something as mundane as analyzing music, he's so animated.</p><p>By the time Raihan's slumped back in his chair and gone still, Piers has trimmed away the edge of his nail polish on four whole fingers.</p><p>...Isn't Raihan going to say something? Does he think it's that bad? Shit, Piers knew he shouldn't have gotten all outlandish with some of those chord progressions. They sounded nice and enticing to him, something fresh and daring, but experimentation is what doomed his latest album release to obscurity. That's the theory, anyways, but he's confident that Raihan will soon confirm that—</p><p>"This is brilliant."</p><p>Piers tears his pinky nail from between his teeth and spits a chip of polish stuck to his lip.</p><p>"Fuckin' wot?"</p><p>Raihan sits upright and grabs the notebook, pressing a finger over the paper and gesturing as he launches into a ramble with a lot of technical music jargon that Piers recognizes as chord progression talk. He shoves up from the bed and strides right over, snatching his notebook back to himself to see just what Raihan had to say. His eyes flit over foreign handwriting—neat, compact, so easy to read—and spot out jotted notes at random.</p><p>
  <em> Em7(b5) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> F#m7 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dmaj </em>
</p><p>These are... oh.</p><p>There are no criticisms or cross-outs on the paper, although there are question marks over some spots that have been scribbled out and replaced with more chord notation. Some parts have been circled over with arrows drawn to connect parallels and resolutions that Raihan noticed, and... wow.</p><p>It's like Raihan picked out everything Piers put deep thought into without even hearing the song. Just from looking at the paper for ten minutes, he got all this. This isn't criticism, it's an analysis.</p><p>The static fades from his ears and he tunes back in to the smooth voice spiked with excitement, still chattering away.</p><p>"—and you don't really see people using progressions like this in rock music <em> or </em> electronic, and I admit that a lot of popular electronic music isn't too groundbreaking when it comes to pushing new ways to lead a listener from point A to point B, since for a lot of people the goal is to make something kickarse that gives you the shivers, and chords that are familiar can pack more of a punch because your ear is expecting a certain landing and when you finally <em> hit </em> that landing it's <em> so </em> satisfying, but I wish more people focused on an interesting journey instead of putting all their eggs into the basket of a banger of a resolution.  The drop, you know? But that's something we can talk about later. You start out with a nice stable—and I know it's ironic to use that word, but bear with me—minor chord whose third leads beautifully into the next—"</p><p>...And Piers' ear tunes out once more. His slack hands offer no resistance when Raihan tugs the notebook back so he can point and tap at the musical roadmap with as much confidence as if he were the one who planned the trip from the start.</p><p>It settles in right then that the man before him is leagues ahead in terms of having a deep, formal understanding of how music works on both technical and theoretical levels.</p><p>Piers pieced together early on that Raihan was a college boy, but for some reason he never connected the dots that this man who's ranted about nightcore and loves DDR might have an honest-to-god degree in whatever the hell Hammerlocke University's music programme is. Does he have a bachelor's? Master's? Was Raihan top of his class? Did he write any papers or theses on music theory or history or modern production?</p><p>The back of his neck starts to burn and he nods along with the words. He understands them individually, he gets the gist, but the way Raihan frames everything in such a concise and analytical manner makes it sound like his music was constructed with way more thought than Piers actually put into it. He just... wrote what sounded good. He's no genius like Raihan is making him out to be.</p><p>But... intentional or not, he still made something Rai likes, and it can't be all luck. There's got to be some level of skill involved even if a lot of his choices were directed by instinct and experience instead of anything formally learned.</p><p>Piers was always a staunch believer that you didn't need a fancy degree to be able to make good music, and the fact that college boy here can talk about his stuff in such depth is kind of reassuring. He created something Raihan likes regardless of how it was made, and that's something he can take pride in.</p><p>"And it's brilliant, all of it! And that's not even counting the lyrics—I'm no poet or literary analyst but they read perfectly to me, they're like, tastefully explicit but shameless all the same, if that makes sense? We can make something incredible with all this. Now I might want to do some experimenting with this bassline and I also want to play with the sounds we use to support the melody of your vocals, and... shit, sorry, I didn't realize I was rambling so much." Raihan laughs and pulls his headband off. "I just get excited about good music. I've tried to analyze your stuff in the past, but it's so hard to do by ear since your stuff has got so many layers to it. Having the paper in front of me is too good to pass up! Do you think I could—maybe keep this? Please?"</p><p>The notebook is hugged against a broad chest and Piers jolts at the pleading way Raihan's looking at him. <em> Beautiful eyes, </em> he remembers thinking to himself. <em> Easily weaponized. </em></p><p>"The song draft?"</p><p>Raihan nods so vigorously that if his headband were on it would have slipped over his eyes. "Just this one! I really want to analyze it more, plus I need a copy anyways if I want to start making the music a reality. But it's okay if you want the original! I've got no right to ask for it, but I thought I'd give it a—"</p><p>"Sure. Have it." He looks away with a warm face. "You can tear the pages out. Long as I get a picture I'll be able to rewrite and rehearse off it."</p><p>From the corner of his vision, the flash of gratitude and pearly white teeth makes his heart flinch in a not-necessarily-bad way. Like when you lift a hand to pet a dog that's not used to it but is still interested in getting affection. ...Quite the self callout, that analogy was. Great introspection there.</p><p>A camera snap jerks his eyes back over. It's just Raihan snapping pictures of the pages, presumably to text him.</p><p>"This is huge. We're just about ready to start actual production. I can mess around with creating our sound, while you do your singing. Then we smash 'em together and see what comes out!"</p><p>That's a far more chaotic process than Piers would be comfortable stepping into, but to hell with it. Pretty interesting that a guy so keen on analyzing and picking music apart has such a haphazard way of creating his own stuff. It's a rather cute juxtaposition.</p><p>Heart finally lightened, he finds himself smiling a little. Or maybe it's not a smile, just that his mouth isn't tilted as far down as usual, but for him that counts well enough.</p><p>Piers steps closer to swipe the notebook off the desk. "Can't promise I'll get a good take anytime soon. Might take me ages to practice enough until I can get somethin' I'm happy with."</p><p>"Of course, take your time! We're not speedrunning this by any means. I'm totally fine if this takes us a whole year, even. Five years. Forever. What matters is we have fun along the way, you know?"</p><p>...Raihan sounds awfully hopeful that this project drags on. Piers doesn't want to think as to why.</p><p>"Sure you won't get sick o' me if it takes that long?" He says with a roll of his eyes, and grips the edges of the papers.</p><p>"Of course not, I'd never get tired of you."</p><p>Piers' hands pause. Raihan spoke with such confidence, and those words may be completely true, but they can't stay true forever. Rai might think he'll never get tired of Piers' presence, his words, texts, all that, but the real test comes in the long run, and he won't be surprised if all that energy starts to flag.</p><p>He'll enjoy it while it lasts. The smiles, the warmth, the touches he's not used to but wants regardless...</p><p>With a prolonged pull and satisfying rip, his hard work is torn loose. He idly debates offering to sign them, knowing Rai wouldn't say no, but there's a limit to how much he can play into Raihan being a fan of his. "Happy birthday."</p><p>"Aw, thanks! You spoil me too much, giving me everything I ask for from you." Raihan sets the papers aside and rises to his feet. Piers backs away to make space. "Feels like I've hardly done anything for you back."</p><p>He backs away another step with an unsaid correction bouncing in his head.</p><p>
  <em> You've got no idea how much you've been doing for me. </em>
</p><p>"You like my stuff. 'S already more'n I can ask from anyone." He turns his face away. "And I'd hardly count what I've done as spoilin' ya."</p><p>There isn't much Piers can offer that would truly spoil him, anyways. He should consider himself lucky that Raihan's made happy with... what, autographs and pens and written-on papers? A private performance here and there? If the bloke ever asked for more from him, Piers would happily give it, if it was in his power to, and the asked-for thing didn't contribute to Raihan potentially losing interest in him after obtaining it.</p><p>No, Raihan literally just said he'd never get tired of him. That's got to count for something. Hell, it's almost like Raihan actually wants him as a person and not as an idolized artist, or someone he wants to fuck silly. If only it were easier to tell what the hell he wants...</p><p>A large hand hovers over his shoulder, and Piers does not back away. It rests on him, warm through his worn shirt. "Consider me plenty spoiled. You indulge me way too much, not that I can complain. If there's anything, and I mean anything, you want from me, let me know and I'll give it to you."</p><p>Easy. Never stop looking at him like that. Like just being nearby is enough to make Raihan happy.</p><p>"...Can't think of anythin'."</p><p>Raihan chuckles, squeezes his shoulder, and leans down until they're nearly at eye level. Again, these beautiful eyes... "You sure? It'd make me happy if there was something only I could give you."</p><p>That smirk snaps him out of it. Or maybe it's the way his heart's rapping on the inside of his chest. This fucking narcissist, wanting to act all self-important. So what if it's a rarity that anyone wants to give Piers anything. Doesn't mean he's gonna say please and thank you over it.</p><p>He brushes the hand off his shoulder and glares. "You're plenty as it is, trust me. Don't need nothin' else from ya."</p><p>He meant that in a dismissive way, but then a slow grin spreads over that handsome face, and with every second that passes, Piers' face gets hotter and hotter when he realizes that what came out of his mouth was actually a compliment.</p><p>"You saying I'm... special?" Raihan lilts.</p><p>"Didn't say shite," he grinds. He lowers his gaze; it ends up somewhere around the level of Raihan's shown-off waist. Seriously, why is he wearing such a snug hoodie today...</p><p>"Aww, you do think I'm special!" Raihan laughs and he leans away without moving his feet, wishing he could strangle himself for his own reactive mouth. "Come on, say it straight. I wanna hear it!"</p><p>His face is burning and there's no hiding it. "Like your ego needs any more boostin'!"</p><p>"Piers, it's far too late. My ego's already been boosted and it's all your precious doing," Raihan gloats and straightens up and it's ridiculous how good he looks when smug. He can't take this anymore, his heart's hammering and it'll only be a matter of time before he's called out on his blush.</p><p>"I'm leavin' now."</p><p>Raihan startles anew. "Wait, already? Do you have somewhere to be?"</p><p>He shoulders past and marches towards the door. He thinks something brushes against his wrist, but it's so light that he wouldn't be able to turn around without looking completely suspicious and potentially seeing something that'll make him want to stay.</p><p>The excuses roll off his tongue. "I've got some rehearsin' to do now that you've approved of the lyrics 'n melody. Don't expect me to be done anytime soon, either, this shit takes time 'n practice to get right."</p><p>"O-Oh, you wanna start working so soon? There's no rush, I told you."</p><p>Piers pauses in the doorway. "I know. I just need all the time I can get for practice. I'll still be sure to text you. And, um..." His hand tightens on the frame of the door and nothing else comes out of his mouth.</p><p>The floor creaks under long steady strides. He can sense the large body behind him, but still doesn't turn around.</p><p>"You sure you don't want to stick around just a little while longer?" That deep voice is far closer than he expected. Piers stiffens and pries his hand off the door frame.</p><p>If Raihan asked him to stay, he would.</p><p>If Raihan said <em> I want you with me, </em> Piers would turn around and fall into those arms like the attention-starved sucker he is.</p><p>But Raihan only asked what <em> he </em> wanted. And what Piers wants is to <em> be </em> wanted. Thoroughly wanted. Not just sexually, but platonically, as a person, and maybe even...</p><p>
  <em> Come off it. There's no way he'd even want to be close friends, let alone date you. Just be satisfied with him wanting your body and wanting what your mind makes musically. That's plenty for you. </em>
</p><p>"I'm sure." His voice is softer. "Catch ya later, mate."</p><p>"Wait."</p><p>He freezes a step out the bedroom, fingers crossed in his mind. If Raihan asks him to stay, he'll stay. <em> Please </em> ask him to stay.</p><p>"What."</p><p>"You already indulge me so much, so feel free to say no, but..." Piers' heart damn near goes on pause to help him listen. "...Hug goodbye?"</p><p>He whirls around. Raihan's scuffing the floor with a socked foot, hands in his pockets, gaze somewhere off to the side.</p><p>"You're askin' for... a hug," he slowly repeats, much to Raihan's embarrassment.</p><p>"Well, yeah. We're mates, right? Don't you hug your friends?"</p><p>Frien—</p><p>Piers' mind screeches to a halt and rewinds to play that last line over.</p><p>Is Raihan saying they're friends? How can they be, when all they've done is work on this project together and text a lot and make each other laugh and support each other's work and embarrass each other without any harm done because it's all in good fun, and...</p><p>
  <em> You're literally describin' what friends do, you dense fuckin' knobhead. </em>
</p><p>Piers swallows and squashes the abrupt shame he feels over how fucking stupid he's been, and shuffles back into Raihan's room.</p><p>"I, er..." He rubs his arm. Neither of them are looking at each other for longer than a glance, god, this is so awkward... "No, I don't. I mean—" He rephrases when the dejection on Raihan's face catches him right in the gut. "I've never really had actual friends to hug. So, erm... Yeah."</p><p>"Oh. Sorry. Didn't realize my question was kinda tasteless." Raihan rubs the back of his neck. "You've got one now, though, if you... want to give it a shot. No worries if you're not comfortable with it. I could always kinda tell that you're not used to being touched casually, so you'll always have an out with me." He pauses, winces, and drops his arm to his side. "Except for that one time I picked you up without asking, that wasn't cool of me, sorry. I've set a bad track record for hugging, haven't I, so you know what I'll just let you go, forget what I said about—"</p><p>"Shut up and do it before I change me mind." Piers pries his own arms open and keeps his head lowered so he doesn't have to see Raihan's face, and also so his own blush, which hasn't let up once since it started, isn't visible. "Show me what this friendly goodbye thing is all about."</p><p>"I—yeah! Sure! Let me just..." Thank god Raihan steps in quickly. Piers doesn't know how long he can hold his arms open like this, he feels like an idiot.</p><p>Long arms fall around his shoulders and a hard chest advances into his space. He's immediately warm, but not from stress, just from Raihan's encompassing body heat. So far so good... and it should be mutual this time, he knows.</p><p>Piers gingerly wraps his arms around Raihan's waist, and as soon as he does, he's pulled into a full and proper hug topped by a sigh from above. The arms around him are firm, steady, not a tremble to be found, and that confidence goes a long way in helping him relax. Warm breath heats the top of his head and he idly hopes that Raihan likes the smell of his conditioner. Rai himself smells really good. Of course he uses Old Spice, how fitting... Finally relaxed, Piers turns his head to let his cheek press against his friend, and closes his eyes.</p><p>This is nice... The last person he's hugged, really hugged, was Marnie, and she's always been tinier than him. Is this how she feels when he wraps his arms around her? All warm and... safe? He hopes so.</p><p>He's got no clue how long hugs between friends are supposed to last, so he's leaving the duration up to Raihan. Which is his way of saying that he wants to stay here as long as possible, held against a hard chest by arms that reach all the way around him and then some.</p><p>Enough time passes that he plays with syncing his breathing to the man around him, but in inverse, so that every time Rai breathes in, he's breathing out, allowing their chests to maintain a consistent pressure as they press together.</p><p>...Is that Raihan's heartbeat?</p><p>Curiosity drives him to tighten his arms. That's absolutely a heartbeat, and according to that powerful drive, Raihan isn't as calm as he appears.</p><p>Shit. He must be clinging for longer than expected and Rai's just too polite to let go first. He's bungled this whole thing up by thinking they could take as long as possible. He's bad at this, bad at knowing how to properly give—and take—real affection. </p><p>Piers loosens his arms with a guilty mumble. "Sorry..."</p><p>Contrary to his expectation, Raihan doesn't take that as an opportunity to get some space. The arms around him squeeze, cling him close again.</p><p>"Don't be. I don't mind." Raihan nuzzles against his head and the realization hits him that if Rai's as lonely as he's been sensing, it must have been a long time since anyone's hugged him too.</p><p>Look at them. Getting things out of each other. That's what friends are for, ain't it. Maybe he doesn't suck arse at this after all.</p><p>With a tentative smile, Piers leans back just enough so he can look up and see what's on Raihan's face. "I don't mind either. Think I quite like this."</p><p>A spark of happiness and relief lights those eyes right up. Piers playfully pushes at Raihan's chest and the arms around him finally loosen and fall away after dragging a bit over his shoulders.</p><p>"Alright, I really do wanna get home and start practicin' vocals. I can get pretty in the zone on that, so ya might stop hearin' from me once I get home from work."</p><p>"That's totally fine! I'll let you go now!" Raihan walks him out of the room this time, and follows him down the stairs like the oversized puppy he is. "I'm no voice guy so I won't interfere with how you want to do the vocals, it's all you, mate. And hey, maybe once you're done we can celebrate somehow?"</p><p>"Celebrate? What, like with champagne?"</p><p>"I was thinking we could hit up that arcade, actually."</p><p>"Can't believe you remember that."</p><p>"Of course I remember! It's a pending hangout with you, I can't just forget about it."</p><p>Piers ignores the way his heart skips a beat, and unlocks and unsticks the door with one swift jerk. "Well I'm still thinkin' about it, so be sure to keep it in your head a little while longer for me. An' that's an order."</p><p>"Aye aye captain!"</p><p>That pushes a brief laugh out of him. "What a good first mate you are. Catch you later, Rai."</p><p>He strolls down the concrete stairs with an extra bounce to his step and swing to his ponytail. First mate is right.</p><p>- - -</p><p>For the next three weeks, Piers goes straight from his soul-sucking job to locking himself in his recording studio to practice, and only leaves when he remembers to eat or when it's time to crawl into bed and pass out for the next day of work to steal his time away.</p><p>On the job, he can't sing, so he does everything but. He runs the lyrics through his head and within a silent mouth to emboss as much as he can into muscle memory, so that when he goes home and rehearses he can spare more focus on the nuances of delivery over anything else. He hums on his breaks, and toys with different ways to emphasize different words every second there's no manager breathing down his neck. He even stops texting Raihan so much while on the clock.</p><p>The only thing on his mind is perfecting his craft.</p><p>This level of obsessive practice isn't anything new for him; he's always thrown himself into music above all else. It's more important to him than anything, save his sister, who'll always reign at the top of his priorities should she ever need anything from him. She doesn't, though, hasn't in years, so he's inclined to freely immerse himself in his passions.</p><p>He's never been quite this driven before, though. Like, yeah, he always does his best, always lives and breathes music whenever possible, but this is the first time he's been so... fuck, what's a good word...</p><p>Vehement, but without any desperation or sense of impending doom should he fail to get it right, that's a good way to describe it.</p><p>He's got zero doubts that it has something to do with the fact that this song is special. A collaborative song, that he's making for fun, alongside someone who considers him a friend. His discography's always consisted purely of passion projects, but what he's creating here really emphasizes the <em> passion </em> part of it. It's thrilling, refreshing, like he's gotten back in touch with why he loves being a singer and songwriter.</p><p>Whenever he needs a break from the constant rehearsing and listening to his own voice through the half-decent speakers, Piers refreshes his ears by listening to other things. Other music.</p><p>Specifically Raihan's music. It's got this energy to it that works its way under his skin and smolders until he can air it out with more singing, more practicing. His friend's helping him work harder without knowing it.</p><p>It's deep into a Friday night—Saturday morning, technically, since the clock's long passed midnight—that Piers listens through one of his takes without finding a single thing he wants to do differently.</p><p>It barely sinks in that he might be done. He can hardly pay the concept any mind. Half in a daze, Piers reaches for his muted phone and does a mindless scroll through social media to give his brain the space to relax after the hours of intense focus he put it through.</p><p>He has a creed of not texting Raihan after midnight, but something like this merits at least some sort of victory message, doesn't it. Raihan's bound to be asleep anyways, so it's not like Piers would be disturbing him at this... hour...</p><p>He brings the phone closer to his face and squints at the timestamp of the post that caught his eye. Raihan posted a picture of his manicured hands over a synth with some comment about being inspired, <em> at 3:47 in the morning. </em> Barely twenty minutes ago! Why the hell is he awake?</p><p>Piers clicks his tongue in disappointment and sets about finding out why. <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span></p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody"><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>oi</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>what are you doin up so late you need to sleep</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Piers!!! Been a while hey!@ Missed you!</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>oh shit you saw that post huh</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>How do you know I didn't queue it up hours ago ;)</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>you've just implicated yourself by answering me. answer again, why the hell are you awake at 4am?</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>I just got in the zone! You know how it is right?</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>rai</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>&lt;3?</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>think ive got our vocals done. and im free tomorrow. wanna work together on it?</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>!!!! Yeah sure pf course!</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>pf*</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>OF*</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>good</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>so get some fucking sleep!!! take care of yourself christ</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>don't wanna see you up this late ever again</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Am I allwoed to point out that you, too, are awake at this same time as I am</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>allowed</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>No.</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>But I'll go to bed if you will.</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>Youve got yourself a hell of a deal</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>See you tomorrowww &lt;3</span> <br/><br/><span class="generic_reply"> <span class="hide"> <b> Raihan: </b> </span>goodnightttttt babyyy</span> <br/><br/><span class="preply"> <span class="hide"> <b>Piers: </b> </span>...gnight, luv</span></p>
</div><p>- - -</p><p>The next day, it takes notably longer than usual for Raihan to answer the door. Piers double checks his phone to make sure they really did agree to meet today, at this time, when the telltale sound of a knob being turned and pulled rattles in his ears. The door sticks in its frame several times before it's finally jerked open.</p><p>"Hey." He blinks up at his friend. "You look..."</p><p>Honestly, terrible. He <em> did </em> go to bed last night, right?</p><p>Raihan sways where he stands, eyes unfocused and stamped with dark circles that rival Piers' own on his good days. His hair hangs loose with no headband to speak of, which would be a very fetching look if the curtain of locs weren't barely masking death itself.</p><p>"...Nevermind. Y'alright, mate?"</p><p>"Me?" Raihan blinks and focuses down at him. Recognition ignites some life back into his eyes. "Piers! Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! Good to go! Come on in!"</p><p>He turns and nearly bashes his shoulder against the wall. Piers rushes forward to grab him before he keels over and holds the tall bastard steady, cursing the man's higher center of gravity and kicking the door shut with a few extra shoves of his boot for good measure.</p><p>"The hell were you doin' last night?" He clicks his tongue in admonishment. "C'mon, let's get you into bed. Yer dead knackered and need to sleep."</p><p>"But I wanna work together..." Raihan whines and stumbles along.</p><p>"Just say when you're tired, we can always reschedule. Did you not go to sleep after you said you would?"</p><p>A guilty chuckle reaches his ears. He doesn't dignify it with a response.</p><p>The banister provides most of the support up the stairs, thank god, because their trip to the first floor would be a death hazard if Piers had to support that giant's weight all the way up these narrow stairs. One slip and he'd break everything. At least he'd cushion Raihan's fall, inasmuch as one can be cushioned against a shrinkwrapped bag of bones.</p><p>Once in the bedroom, he gives Raihan a light slap between the shoulder blades and shoves him further in. "You. Bed. Now."</p><p>"Order me around like that and I'll do aaanything you want, baby." Raihan's long legs take him to the massive bed and buckle like faulty stilts to send him crashing face-first onto the mattress.</p><p>"You're hopeless," he sighs. "Come on, lay properly..."</p><p>He grabs the bare calves hanging off the bed—god almighty, what handfuls—and leverages Raihan's lower half until he's more or less parallel to the edge of the bed. Raihan rolls onto his side with a groan. Man looks three-quarters on his way to dreamland already.</p><p>With a resigned huff, Piers walks the perimeter of the bed to drag the blanket from the empty side and fold it over Raihan's body. ...And tucks him in a little, because why not.</p><p>"Never would've expected this from you."</p><p>"I 'an keep goin'..." Raihan mumbles. "Don' wanna... washte time on... shleee..."</p><p>...And he's out. That's definitely a snore.</p><p>Right then. Guess he should leave the man some peace and quiet and they can reschedule later. The hell did Raihan sleep-deprive himself for, anyways? Out of all people, that perfect-faced social media addict should know the value of self-care.</p><p>Piers realizes too late that he spent the entirety of his brief musing staring at Raihan's peaceful sleeping face. He shakes his head and turns to leave only to have his eye caught by something glowing an obnoxious, eye-searing teal.</p><p>Raihan's computer. It's still awake. He must've been working on something all this morning too for him to have lost enough sentience to reach zombified levels...</p><p>He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.</p><p>A glance at the bed confirms that the man's out colder than a yeti's bollocks, so... just a peek shouldn't hurt. Piers creeps over to the desk and has a look. Several synths are scattered over the immediate space, hooked up to each other with a web of cables that must connect to the desktop somewhere. Nearby are the papers holding Piers' songwriting, with even more notes and marks than he remembers. On the multi-monitor setup, Piers sees exactly what he was expecting.</p><p>Sure enough, bloke was working on music. Got a shitload of files open, too... They're all named similarly, <em> experiment1, experiment 2, experiment 2.1, experimentFINAL, experimentFINAL2, experimentFINALFINAL... </em> There's a notes app open on a corner of one monitor, with what looks like impressions of each open song.</p><ul>
<li><span class="codefont">hate it, beat's good tho, re-use?</span></li>
<li><span class="codefont">maybe too extreme.... will he like this?</span></li>
<li><span class="codefont">version 2.1: show this to him first</span></li>
<li><span class="codefont">final: show this to him second</span></li>
<li><span class="codefont">final2: this sucks do NOT show him this one</span></li>
<li><span class="codefont">final my arse asdfjlasdlfLAKSJHFLJDSGHL</span></li>
</ul><p>Their song. It's got to be their song, why else would Raihan have all these notes about showing him?</p><p>The file that's currently got focus in the window is <em> experiment 2.1, </em> the one that Raihan apparently wants him to listen to first. Since the intention was established, he might as well slip these headphones on and give it a listen...</p><p>...No, he shouldn't. Raihan worked hard on all this, the least Piers can do is not rob him of the opportunity to present his work. He can already foresee that excited expression and hear Raihan's rambling about everything he tried and how he can't wait for Piers' first impression.</p><p>It can wait. Rai needs to sleep first. He stayed up all bleeding night on their project when he was the one going on about not minding if it took them years. Trust a passionate artist to not keep their hands off for long.</p><p>Piers drifts away from the desk, but instead of heading towards the door, he finds himself next to the bed once more, observing the man passed out on his side.</p><p>Raihan might have looked dead on his feet earlier, but with his tired eyes closed, he looks livelier already despite being asleep. His mouth is partially open, full lips skewed thanks to being smushed against the pillow. One of his locs is almost poking into his mouth.</p><p>Without a thought, Piers reaches out and moves the dense hair out of his face, tucking it with the other locs. Much better...</p><p>His hand lingers near Raihan's face. The urge to stroke surges so strong Piers nearly lurches back. He stays rooted purely because he really, <em> really </em> wants to indulge himself. Hugging is already pretty intimate, so something like this should be okay...</p><p>Just once. Rai won't even notice. It's safe.</p><p>Piers nibbles his lip as he grazes a knuckle over a soft cheek. So soft, god, what's this man's skincare routine like? His face is flawless, save for those dark circles that'll hopefully diminish after this nap. Man's got really nice lashes, too... He never paid them much mind before, because whenever Rai's eyes were open, those took up most of his attention.</p><p>Those dark eyelashes flutter and he freezes. Raihan doesn't awaken fully, his eyes stay closed, but just in case he's listening, Piers whispers to him. "Don't overwork yourself. I don't like seein' it."</p><p>A sleepy mumble confirms that Raihan heard him, and is the best promise he can get. He goes a little warm and fuzzy inside and he's glad no one's looking at his face.</p><p>"I'll leave you to your nap. Sleep well."</p><p>He draws away, intending to leave for real this time, but something hooks his wrist. It's gentle, and loose, and he wants to laugh because it's become a real habit for them to stop each other from leaving when they intend to. He looks over his shoulder and his quip dies on his lips.</p><p>Raihan's brow is furrowed, eyes still closed, hand barely peeking out of the blankets for two long fingers to hold his wrist. He's more awake than Piers thought... and determined to pretend to be asleep. There's no way Raihan isn't aware of how obvious it is he's faking.</p><p>Why, though? What does he want this time, that he can't say out loud? That he's got to pretend to be unconscious for?</p><p>Piers licks his lips and experimentally tugs his wrist free. Rai's fingers twitch, but slide away, and something subtle flickers across his facade. Something a little vulnerable, and a little needy, that steals the breath from Piers' lungs.</p><p>He thinks he understands. He just doesn't know if he believes it. That Raihan wants him to stay—not because they have work to do, or because there's anything to talk about, or because Raihan wants to touch or tease or stare at him—but just to be in his presence while he falls asleep. Rai must think it's too much to ask aloud, but it's not, it's the furthest thing from too much.</p><p>There's only the barest amount of space left on the edge of the bed, but Piers makes it work. It barely dips under his perched weight. Firm mattress.</p><p>The furrow in Raihan's brow eases away when Piers places a hand on his blanket-covered shoulder. His breathing still isn't sleep-even, but Piers has no interest in calling him out for faking. He's just happy to be asked to be here. Raihan <em> wants </em> him here, and that's everything Piers wanted. To <em> be </em> wanted.</p><p>Heart lighter than it's been in weeks—since the last time they were face to face, when they hugged—Piers smiles unseen, a subtle thing that barely curves his lips.</p><p>"If you get some real sleep," he whispers, "I'll reward you."</p><p>He rubs Raihan's muscular shoulder, and stifles a chuckle when the sleeping poker face cracks and a sliver of blue peeks at him through thick lashes.</p><p>"So that's what it takes to wake you up, eh?"</p><p>Raihan groans, and the sound transitions into a yawn against his palm. "'M boutta pass back out, though... Wh'sat about a reward though?"</p><p>"It's a surprise." He's got no clue. Needs to plan for it later. "Now fall asleep for me. I'll stay until you do."</p><p>Rai whines and drags his pillow further under his head and nuzzles into it. "Why...? You don' have to..."</p><p>For some reason, <em> because I know you want me around </em> doesn't feel like the right answer. It holds truth, but it's not the whole of it.</p><p>It's once in a blue moon that Piers does something willingly purely because someone else wants him to do it. Raihan is special, just like he bragged, so Raihan gets the unique privilege of getting what he wants without too much bitching on Piers' part.</p><p>But no, that's still not everything...</p><p>"Because I wanna be here," he says, and everything now makes simple sense. "That's all."</p><p>He spent all this time fretting over being wanted that he forgot to consider something crucial.</p><p>He wants Raihan too. Wants to be around him, to be close to him, to make sure he's taking care of himself. Wanting people is dangerous, Piers knows this, has always lived with that knowledge of how pointless it is to desire someone, but it's far, far too late for him.</p><p>What's absurd is that he actually trusts Raihan not to hurt him. Even if Rai ever does get sick of him or rejects him, Piers trusts the other to cut things off gracefully at the least. To take his feelings into consideration, which is more than he could ever ask of anyone else. Raihan cares for him in some way and the feeling's mutual.</p><p>Scarily new concept. Looking at the man halfway to passing out again, though, it's hard to feel any fear.</p><p>He reaches up to brush Raihan's hair from his face once more, and notes with a smile the way Raihan grunts and hides the bottom half of his face with the blanket.</p><p>"Sweet dreams, love. I'll be here."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Progress is made, both on the song and in their relationship. Congrats to Piers for finally getting it into his head that yeah, Raihan wants him as, like, a person. Only took this long for it to sink in!</p><p>Also by all means send Raihan a real-life email. Might even get an answer back.</p><p>Next chapter is probably the one I've been looking forward to writing the most &gt;:) we'll be back to Raihan's POV for that one</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. To Be Exposed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to those who emailed Raihan, it was very fun putting answers together! dragon.master.raihan@gmail.com is still open (I guess indefinitely?), so if you're still thinking about it, by all means send the guy an email!</p><p>Now, on to the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Another Friday past-midnight, another no-name gig at a crowded downtown club that'll no doubt hit the end of its lifespan in a few years only for another to move into its shell with its own spin on trendy. The lifespans of these establishments are often pathetically short, but they're always packed on the weekends and always in need of someone to keep the crowds moving with good music. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He'd booked this gig weeks ago, and by the time he remembered it was on his schedule it was too late to cancel without marking himself a massive prick. He'd much rather stay at home, working on his latest passion project. Ah well. Once he's through with his set, he can go straight home and sink his hands into what'll really make him happy. These gigs are time-wasters in comparison. At least he can pocket some extra cash and get out of the house. Free booze isn't something to turn his nose up at, either. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Right now, Raihan waits for his turn at the DJ booth, out of the way as the clock approaches the hour of one. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The club's staff room's wall are no doubt the cleanest in the whole building, so he's free to lean against it without the fear of getting god-knows-what on his clothes. Sheltered from the pulse of screaming beats outside the door, it's relatively peaceful in here, and he's spending this idle time scrolling through social media for lack of anything else to do. Piers never texts him after midnight for some reason. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Under his thumb, one of his feeds flicks across the screen at a steady pace. He's barely paying attention to the content, going through the motions more than anything else. Sometimes a pretty face or interesting color combination slows his scroll, but other than that, he's doing this to keep his eyes and hand busy so he's not just loitering. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A flash of purple freezes his thumb and he backtracks up the screen until a fresh post from the Wyndon F.C.'s official account is centered for him to tap and expand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's an action shot of a practice session. Must've been from this morning going by the mist and dew of the field. Leon's mid-leap, one leg bent back and ready to drive forward into a hell of a kick, arms raised and torso twisted for maximum drive. The camera captured the absurd taper of shoulder to waist from this pose. No wonder they posted this one; Leon's always been a magnet for pulling eyes to their team, both on the field and on the internet. Man's even got a fanclub hashtag. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Double-tap, auto-zoom. Pan from torso to face. Bright golden eyes alight with focus, not even caring about the camera, only about the ball. The shot of a pending kick matters infinitely more than any shot from a lens. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Leon's got just as much social media presence as Raihan. The only difference is that Leon's never put so much as a glance into fostering it. It just happens around him. Other people do the work, whether it's official team PR or the scores of adoring fans who scream his name on sight. None of the social stuff registers as remotely important to this star team player. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He kind of envies his friend's ability to ignore social media. Leon didn't even know he had fanclubs forming groups online, some ridiculously niche. It was worth it to see Leon's face when, during one of the blue-moon times they could hang out in person, he pulled up the group dedicated to collating close-ups of Leon's chest in his jersey. Or the group dedicated to discussion about his legs. Guy got so red, even coughed a bit, and said that people were allowed to have fun how they wanted as long as it wasn't hurting anybody. A good sport about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Raihan swipes the image away, sending his best friend's likeness off the screen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Leon, so adored without ever having to try. Without even caring that people love him so much. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Kind of makes a man jealous sometimes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He's not sure which he covets more: the attention, or the not-caring about the attention. Leon's able to have both, because he's Leon, but Raihan would never be able to operate like that. What's better, to have all the feast his appetite demands or to never feel hunger at all? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The club music swells into booming clarity when a bartender opens the door and ducks inside. A quick shove of the door muffles things once more. Guy hardly pays him any mind beyond a glance, fine by him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clock says he's still got a good eight minutes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Notification. Twitter DM. Just another thirsty fan leaving a compliment for him and fishing for his attention. He won't bother responding and they won't even know he's seen it; he's turned off read receipts a while ago. He can get to it after his set once he's loosened up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He closes the app and automatically opens his text messages next despite the lack of red dot on the icon. Right below Piers' thread is the one that's been second-most active, because that's how thread sorting works. Anyways, second place has got quite a gap. Five days ago. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Weird that a guy who's never come in second his whole life is sitting in the silver spot on Raihan's phone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Their last conversation was engaging, fun, and ended on a pleasant note. Key word being 'ended.' Wrapped up. Concluded. Normally, by now Raihan would have thrown another topic out for Leon to attend to when he could, but now that he has Piers to text... he felt okay leaving Leon alone for a bit. Guy's plenty busy with the start of the season coming up next month. Deserves all the time and space in the world to focus and hone his skills. The least Raihan can do to support his friend is back off and not bother him. He won't text first this time around. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ...Okay, so what if he wants to see if Leon might be the one to start a conversation for once. Is that so bad? To pause one's constant reaching-out to see if reciprocity might come from the other direction? Nothing wrong with a little experimentation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So far, it's been five days of no dice, which is two days longer than the average gap between communications for them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knows this is dumb. It's so stupid of him to put stock in Leon texting first. He knows his friend is busy, and knows that Leon is that type of single-minded ambitious that gets so focused on achieving goals that he forgets everything else, but come on, would it kill the guy to send a hello or even a picture? It would only take a second. Just a single moment of Leon's valuable, valuable time. Raihan would love to see a picture of his friend that came from the man's own camera and not through a telephoto lens or TV footage or magazine spread. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The idea of breaking his self-imposed vow of silence is a tempting one. There's so much he wants to tell Leon about what's going on in his life, but he has to cherry pick the most shareable things because of the limited time Leon has to text. So much gets held back unsaid. His progress with Piers in particular not something he wants to hold back. So much has happened since he last told Leon about him! Like how Piers isn't used to real hugs, and how nice his hair smells, and how Raihan always knew Piers was bony but it never really sunk in until he had the skinny thing wrapped in his arms and held close to his chest. And how Piers really does like him back—as friends, at least, which is already amazing! How they text every day (alright, maybe don't tell Leon about that part), and how Piers gives him cat pictures (look how adorable that old monster is, Leon, missing teeth!) and the way Piers isn't the least bit afraid to call him out on his bullshit (just like you, mate) and how the texted banter is so fun he laughs aloud and would rather chat the day away instead of work, and also—and then, and, and, and... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Raihan sighs and closes out of his text messages to put Leon's smiling little icon out of sight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Most of all, he wants to tell his best friend he's in love. The sentiment's buzzed and burned beneath his skin ever since he first realized it and it's still going strong. God, just thinking about the fact that he's in love has his heart thumping harder than the bass outside this room, and his body going all floaty and giddy. He wants to tell everyone who'll listen that he's fallen in love with someone amazing. Anyone who'll give him the time of day will get an earful. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Which is why he hasn't told Leon yet. He can't bear the idea of dropping such a bombshell only to have it sit there, untouched, for hours, potentially all night, even into the next day. It would tarnish the feelings he put into it. Make it feel stale somehow, and however Leon responded, no matter how enthusiastic and fervent it was, it would fall flat. Sure, Raihan could send a "I have something important to tell you" and wait for Lee to be free, but that still wouldn't feel right. That still involves twiddling his thumbs and sitting on his news. More than he has already. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It's so not fair to his best friend, but he can't help it. He doesn't want to twiddle his thumbs until Leon can finally grant him attention. He doesn't want to gush into an empty room, he wants Leon to be there and listen and grin and clap his back and wish him luck and maybe even give a spot of good advice, because for all that brain is full of air off the field, Leon's got a very grounded way of looking at relationships. Hah. He'd probably even have some nugget of valuable insight regarding their friendship if Raihan were to just, you know, tell him about all these achy sore spots he has regarding feeling neglected by his best friend. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He's always been more or less okay with the way they conduct their friendship long-distance. He's had more than enough time to get used to it ever since graduation set them on diverging paths. So why's it bothering him so much lately? Is it because of Piers? A new friend that he can compare relationships between? Maybe he was okay with being apart from Leon because that was the only active friendship he maintained, but now that he's got Piers, who texts him all the time, sends him pictures, meets up with him, banters and laughs and hugs him, the setup he has with Leon suddenly feels... lackluster. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Talking tends to solve everything, it's true, but it also brings things to light he'd rather keep tucked away. Leon's known him to be a very specific kind of guy, and to uproot all that by dumping a ton of stress and insecurities on him out of nowhere? Why the hell would he want to change Leon's perception of him? He can picture his best friend's reaction. Horror, maybe. Sharp brows pinched. Saying "Raihan..." in that mellow, buttery voice that anyone would love to have grace their ears. The image of loving concern. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It'd make Raihan sick to his stomach to have Leon look at him like that. He doesn't want to be treated like a delicate little fawn, but Leon's such a bleeding heart that the moment he senses any kind of wrongness he switches into caretaker mode. It's as endearing as it is repulsive, and is an aspect of Leon that's unavoidable. Rai would be a bad friend if he never leaned on Lee for anything, so he handles that by going to his friend with trivial problems, small shit, to let Leon do his part and walk away feeling happy he could help while Raihan keeps the real monsters firmly locked in the basement with a nice heavy trapdoor over it and a beautiful ornate rug covering that. Out of sight, out of mind. Nothing wrong in Raihan's life, no sir. He's got everything he could ever want. A career he's passionate about, fans and money, a nice little rented townhouse on a picturesque street lined with trees, and a best friend who loves him but is just a touch too busy to actively remind him of it, even though Raihan shouldn't even need the reminding because they're just that close. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fucking yikes. Back to the social media feed. He's not good at this super deep introspective stuff, gives him a headache. There's hardly a point anyways. For all he knows, he'll forget all about this by the end of the night, once he's gotten high on the thrill of making a crowd dance to his musical whims, and why put a ton of thought into something he'll hopefully forget about? This shit is just depressing. He's better than this, he's Raihan! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The basest reduction of the matter is that Leon's living his own life just like he's living his. This is where they both ended up, happy and successful and moving forward on separate paths. The least he can do is appreciate what he's got with Leon and keep pushing forward. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 12:55. Time to start getting his shit set up while the other DJ finishes their set. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Raihan shoves his phone into his pocket and shoulders his gear bag. The break room door swings open and the full force of the music slams into him and rattles his body with every throb of bass. He slips into a stride that takes him through the chaotic crowd with ease. People part around him so easily. Benefits of being tall. Thank god nightclubs always have such high ceilings.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The club-goers, in all their varying states of intoxication, dance without a care to the pop music remix. Some female singer wails about drugs and missing her ex and going on a spree of heartbreak while partying all night long. All this carefree dancing is met with a bit of dry envy; for Raihan, the possibility of elbowing someone in the face with his long limbs is too oppressive for him to be able to cut loose like everyone else can. But hey, he's not here to dance, he's here to facilitate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The frenetic beat sinks into his bones and he allows it to thrum through his blood and pump him up into the persona that's ready to take everyone in this club for a hell of a ride. He slaps on a smile and casts it out to anyone whose eye he attracts (and there are many), tossing a wink to those who attract his back (less of those—there's only one person he really wants in his bed anymore), and finally reaches the structure meant to elevate the DJ safe from the crowd. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The transition between old and new happens at midnight on the dot. Raihan grabs the mic and makes the switch known with a fiery callout of his own stage name and a flash of his signature smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Aren't you a pretty-looking lot?" He flicks into one of his starter songs, a number remixed with a deliberate build-up to allow him time to finish his charismatic address while the music amps up. "DJ Goombox is ready to take care of you all tonight! Scream for me and start us off right! Let me hear you!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In time with drunken hollers, the music starts and the crowd surges to meet it halfway, and just like that, everyone's dancing in the skilled, optimistic, energetic hands of Raihan, professional entertainer. </em>
</p><p>- - -</p><p>Raihan's head is full of fuzz-covered lead. His mouth tastes weird and his lips are insanely dry and ugh, there's a wet spot on his pillowcase... gross... He always feels a touch disgusting when he wakes up from midday naps. His body does not know how to handle them.</p><p>With a croaking groan, his hand fumbles its way up to pinch at his eyes and clear the crusty garbage from the corners, and once he can see, he blearily peers around.</p><p>He doesn't recall putting himself to bed. Or tucking himself in. Or putting a glass of water on the bedside table...</p><p>"Welcome back to the land o' the livin'."</p><p>His heart catapults out of his chest and launches him upright. His hair falls over his eyes and he sweeps them back and stares at the person occupying his desk chair all the way across the room. A large black sweater slouches off the rack of a bony shoulder, ghost-pale all the way up a slender, collared neck and interrupted only by pink lips and then two shocking spots of judgemental sea-green.</p><p>"Piers?" slurs his nap-dry mouth. He swallows and looks over his friend. Who is here. In his room, while he was passed out.</p><p>"Don't tell me you're surprised to see me. That nap must've addled your 'ead real good."</p><p>Recollection at last. After a forgettable gig, he stayed up past four in the morning bringing the music Piers wrote to life. Couldn't resist posting a picture. Got caught and called the fuck out and told "hey tomorrow let's work together, so get some sleep," and he put his phone down and... did not sleep. Whoops. But he still woke up at a decent time this morning! He got a whole... one, two... sheesh, three hours. And a half. No wonder he was so groggy when Piers came knocking for him earlier.</p><p>God, he's embarrassed he was seen in that state... Sleep-deprived is only a good look on a select few, one of whom is staring right at him with a brow arched and legs crossed, looking so tiny in that throne of a desk chair Raihan had to hunt for ages to find, as something that fulfilled his needs for height, chiropractical comfort, and ergonomics.</p><p>"What are you, uh..." He lowers his hands and lets his locs slip and fall where they may. "Still doing here?"</p><p>"You wanted me to stay, didn't ya?"</p><p>"I did?" His brows knit. He doesn't recall asking Piers to do anything for him.</p><p>A bony knee, damn near jutting through the ripped denim strained over it, bounces and bobs. "That's what I assumed, at least..." No, don't hide that pretty face... "You, er. Seemed like you wanted me around."</p><p>"Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I did! Sorry, mind's still catching up. Sleep-deprived Raihan really did want you to stay. Awake Raihan is happy you're here too! I just, wasn't expecting you to stick around after I passed out, I guess." He weakly chuckles and rubs the shaved back of his neck.</p><p>Piers loosens up and tugs his choker with an unmistakably pink-tinged visage. "Well... just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were out of it for hours, must've really needed the sleep."</p><p>"Sorry? I was out for how long?"</p><p>"It's well past four, bruv."</p><p>Four in the... afternoon. Almost evening. Piers waited for him to wake up for—god, he's a terrible host!</p><p>"I, ah, hope you weren't bored," he says with a nervous edge to his smile. "Didn't mean to leave you alone for so long. Sorry about that."</p><p>He curses himself for not being awake to entertain his friend. Why hang out with him if not to have fun? Watching him sleep couldn't be that riveting, if Piers was watching him sleep at all. Oh, god, was he? Raihan's judges the distance between the bed and his desk chair. It'd be hard to see his face from there once lying down. Piers could have watched his body, though, and that's kind of flattering. Not creepy at all, in his opinion, but that's only because if he had the opportunity to watch Piers sleep he'd totally do it.</p><p>"Nah, I had my phone. Wasn't lonely either. Asleep or not, you were right there."</p><p>Despite his gut reaction being <em> there's no way that was enough to satisfy you, </em> Raihan finds himself relaxing. Piers wasn't totally bored. The last thing Raihan wants is to be boring. Well, no, actually, the worst thing is being ignored, but being boring is what allows that to happen. If he can be entertaining enough—smile enough, look good enough—then people will have their eyes on him.</p><p>(Not that holding the attention of dazzled strangers fulfills him at the end of the day. It's just a finger in the hole of an otherwise-leaky dike that he's got no choice but to keep plugged indefinitely. What he really wants are eyes on him that see beyond the facade, but that can't happen unless he drops the facade, but if he drops it, no one would want to look. What a perfect paradox he's got.)</p><p>Wow, post-nap Raihan thinks some depressing thoughts. Back under the rug with those unpalatable concepts, where was he! Piers saying he wasn't bored!</p><p>"Heh, still, next time you're over I'd rather be awake for it. Can't believe I lost hours of opportunity to b—to hang out with you." <em> Be with you </em> would have been a mite too strong. Also inaccurate because they're not even together. Not like that. Plus, the last time he laid it on too thick Piers tried to bail, and like hell is he going to make that mistake a second time. He's got to ease back on how open he is with his desires.</p><p>"It was hours well spent, trust me. Ya look a lot better after that kip. When ya first opened that door, oi..." Piers shakes his head and gives him an exaggerated once-over that does the opposite of make him preen. "Ya looked like shite to put it lightly."</p><p>His expression crystallizes.</p><p>Looked like shite. Piers saw him look not just sleep-deprived, but irredeemably terrible. Fuck, fuck, did the nap really fix anything? Does he still look like rubbish? Where's his phone. Where's his camera. He needs to see his face.</p><p>After observing his not-so-subtle patting around the covers, Piers unfolds himself and grabs something from the desk. Oh, his phone! There's the little rascal. Once it's handed to him he relaxes a notch. He's not used to sleeping with it out of reach, because what if something important happens, like Leon or Piers texting him?</p><p>He opens the camera right off and checks himself.</p><p>Not... bad. Not awful. He's got some dark circles but that's nothing a touch of makeup can't hide. Hair needs arranging. He could pass this off as charmingly roguish if he threw the right outfit on, but in his post-gig t-shirt and basketball shorts he looks unkempt as fuck.</p><p>"Hey, relax, ya look fine."</p><p>He frowns and tilts his head this way and that. "I wouldn't call this fine..."</p><p>"I would. You're still drop-dead gorgeous. ...Less drop-dead now that you've got some sleep, but still."</p><p>The compliment does wonders at smoothing down his stress-spiked feathers. Piers thinks he looks good, isn't that all that matters?</p><p>"That right?" With a flash of a smile with as many smarmy watts he can push, Raihan tosses his phone aside and leans back against the pillows, his hands laced behind his head to show off his arms. "Glad you like what you see."</p><p>Rather than blush or chuckle at his charm, Piers fixes him with a stern enough look that he drops his laid-back pose, feeling admonished for a reason he can't pin down.</p><p>"I'm only gonna say this once. I don't care how pretty ya look at any given time, I never wanna see you pull that sleepless shite again, hear me? It ain't good for ya," Piers hisses. "When I came in you were a tilt away from topplin' right over, an' what would I 'ave done to catch your sorry arse and stop your head from crackin' on the floor? Stand back and yell 'timber' on yer way down? Seriously, take better care of yourself or one day your bad decisions'll give <em> me </em> cardiac arrest and then we'll both be in the hospital!"</p><p>Throughout the course of the rant, his admonished feeling evaporates, and with it float all his other little worries, up and away into the aether.</p><p>Unable to keep affection from coloring his voice—because really, what else is he supposed to feel when Piers is fussing over him like this?—Raihan responds to the rant with a sappy accusation.</p><p>"You worried about me."</p><p>Surprise only colors Piers' face for a second before it's swept behind a grumpy front. He mumbles and draws his legs up onto the chair to curl into a cute, glaring little ball. Raihan wants to stride over there and scoop him up and snuggle the hell out of him for housing such a big heart inside that rickety-thin rib cage.</p><p>"Course I worried," Piers grumbles against his knee, blush as evident as his concern, both of which are breathtaking for their sweetness. "I ain't gonna let ya get away with bein' stupid. Would hate seein' ya get hurt. Or sick. 'Specially if it's for a stupid reason like gettin' no sleep on account'a me. I want you takin' care o' yourself, ya thick-headed git..."</p><p>Raihan's heart sings to the heavens, and as he was never much of a songwriter, the lyrics are as simple and straightforward as a hurled javelin.</p><p>
  <em> I love you! I love you! </em>
</p><p>Piers worried about him! Had thoughts about his well-being! Cares about his health enough to scold him for getting bad sleep! Raihan basks in the glow of Piers' admittance, lets it fill up his heart past capacity. He's in love with a verified angel.</p><p>Another spot of evidence to that fact is the glass of water on the table. Piers put that there for him.</p><p>"I'll be better about bedtime, just for you." He reaches for the glass. It's cold, like it was placed recently. "Pretty sure you'd kick my arse if you caught me doing it again anyways!"</p><p>"Tch. Ya got that right."</p><p>Raihan laughs into the glass at the idea of a scrawny thing like Piers trying to knock him down. Who knows, maybe he's actually vicious. Like a feral raccoon or something. Raihan's not a scrapper himself; his towering height and frame do a good enough job at intimidating people that he's never had to throw a single punch in his life. The idea of actually decking someone kind of scares him.</p><p>The cold water, asides from cooling his body down, does wonders at refreshing his mouth and sending the signal to his body that he's awake. Now that he's more conscious of his body as a whole, he can tell the nap really did help. He shoves a yawn away and drains the rest of the glass. Rather than set it aside, he keeps it in his hands, to have something solid to hold that isn't his phone.</p><p>What now?</p><p>He's got the man he's been head over heels with sitting across the room. Piers came here to work on music, so now that he's awake, they can get to that, maybe? Or, in an alternate timeline where Raihan's as ballsy and charming as he projects himself to be 24/7, he could slide to the center of the bed, pat the newly made space, and invite Piers to come cuddle with him. The skinny thing is a perfectly manufactured little spoon. And if he happened to be tired, then it could be Raihan's turn to watch him nap. He could stand guard over his friend while he rests all vulnerable and exhausted and cute, and maybe sneak a few pictures of his relaxed sleeping face.</p><p>Alright, that's crossing a line. But it's fantasy anyways, he can do what he wants within the safe padded borders of Imaginary Land Where Piers Likes Him Back.</p><p>Once they've gotten their project done, that's when Rai will shoot his shot. The risk of compromising their collaboration is too high if they got together in the middle of it and something went rancid and they had a dramatic break-up, and then he'd not only have lost Piers, but also his most precious musical endeavor ever. Might he consider it an accomplishment to have a break-up song written about him...? Hopefully <em> that </em> never happens.</p><p>His fingertips drum along the glass. Little thunky plinks. Would make good samples to use in a future song. Forget future songs, though, he needs to focus on the one he stayed up all night for. Piers' song. Their song. Their baby that they are the parents to. Wait, wasn't that what Piers texted him about last ni—this morning? Something about how the vocals are done?</p><p>The vocals! They've got vocals! That's the most major individual component done, that means they can start pulling the whole thing together <em> right now! </em></p><p>Raihan flings the covers off and pulls his legs in. "I'm ready to get started on our thing! You have something to show me, right?"</p><p>"You still wanna do stuff?" Piers lowers his thumbnail from his mouth. Oral fixation.</p><p>"Of course!" Remember, rein in the obsessiveness. Easy now. "You seriously underestimate how much I'm willing to have you here. Hang out as much as you please!"</p><p>Piers shifts his weight and gives him a glance he can't interpret, but pings his <em> might have messed something up </em> radar. Did he not say the right thing...?</p><p>No, son of a downtrodden bitch, <em> willing </em> was the worst word to use. Idiot! Making it sound like he's only tolerating an overstayed welcome! He pulled back too far and fucked up in the opposite direction of overwhelming Piers with too-strong feelings. He can fix this. Balance, it's all about balance. And fessing up. He should come clean about his motivations for saying what he did.</p><p>He waits until his shifty friend is looking him in the eye before stating, with as much sincerity as possible—the real stuff too, not the faked stuff he's good at also giving, "Sorry. What I meant to say was, I really want you to stay. Please stick around, I don't want you to go just yet. I just didn't want to scare you off by being too eager to hang out."</p><p>The aura of relief that emanates from Piers' slackened shoulders—the barest drop, stark and sharp with meaning—is heart-aching.</p><p>"No, no, you'd never." Piers hooks a finger into his choker and flashes him a look of furtive appreciation from behind his bangs. "I, er... I like knowin' that ya really want me around."</p><p>He grins in mutual relief. Big weight off his shoulders to know that Piers doesn't mind his neediness. "And I like knowing what you like knowing. You don't even have to say it for me to pick it up." He taps the side of his head.</p><p>Man, déjà vu. This is what, the third, fourth, who knows how many times he's tried to help it sink in that yes, he loves giving Piers his time and attention and yes, he wants Piers at his side. He'll do it as many times as needed or wanted. For the sake of someone he cares about, repeat reassurances are a happy task.</p><p>He thinks back to the first time he was at Piers' place, that fumble between them about fame and attention, figuring out what they might give and take from each other. Raihan's got so much to give. Attention, hugs, time spent together... (and one day, if things go right, love, pleasure, commitment, too...)</p><p>The only real obstacle is getting Piers to accept all those things. For all the smart-mouthed bastard can be flirtatious and witty, he's real damn shaky on accepting things like touch and affection and straightforward attention. Raihan's willing to comb through as many little sub-compartments of what makes up a healthy relationship—platonic or romantic, doesn't matter—until Piers feels secure in each and every one.</p><p>"Hope I ain't makin' it a chore for ya to repeat yourself all the time..." Bloody mind reader, that nearly spooked him. "Dunno why all the nice shit you say to me hardly sticks..."</p><p>"It's not a chore at all! You're fine, trust me. It's not something I've ever thought to be a bother."</p><p>"Appreciate it. Really."</p><p>Pride glows warm in his chest. "Anytime. I don't mind being whatever you need, no matter what!"</p><p>A flicker of an appraising look soars right over his head, because he purposefully ducked it. Metaphorically. Not physically, that'd just be weird. Just laugh it off, laugh it off. Whatever that was. "So, what've you got to show me? You said something about the vocals being done?"</p><p>Piers seems to pull out of some train of thought. "Got 'em right here. Get your arse out of bed if you wanna listen."</p><p>"Hell yes I do!"</p><p>He'd rather get dressed in something more presentable, <em> but, </em> what makes it okay is that Piers answered the door in pajamas before and Raihan absolutely loved it, and Piers already called him handsome, so what's the harm in looking not put-together for this? He'll live.</p><p>Not two minutes after staggering out of bed, he's got them set up at his workstation, midi keyboard moved aside and dining room chair dragged in place, all software windows minimized so they can focus. His own shit can wait, it's half-baked anyways and who knows what the hell his sleep-deprived brain thought was good past 4 in the morning.</p><p>Piers sets a grubby USB stick in his hand and he eagerly plugs it in. First try, too, because honestly, it's not that hard if you pay attention to which side has the little symbol on it and make sure it faces up. People think you're a wizard before long.</p><p>Okay, open the folder, ignore all the other juicy-looking subfolders and files on this drive, he's only here for whatever Piers points out.</p><p>
  <em> stillneedsaname.mp3 </em>
</p><p>A double-click later, and good ol' reliable VLC has got the audio file open and ready to be listened to.</p><p>"Alright, so... I tweaked the lyrics just a bit from what you saw last, but the shape of it's the same. Give it a listen. Promise I won't stare at your face or nothin'."</p><p>"Stare away! I don't mind your eyes on me." He winks and pulls his headphones off their stand, smiling when a scoff reaches his ears right before the plush ear cups obscure his hearing.</p><p>Nothing left to do but press play. He just needs a second because he knows full well what he's getting into. The full Piers experience. No instrumentation, presumably no filters, just raw, uninhibited Piers. Lucky for him he's finally managed to control himself when it comes to Piers' voice, thanks to the last time he listened to audio that came off a USB stick. As per the tease he got, and the email he got, and the surprise message at the end of the attachment to said email that he got, Raihan was able to have an embarrassed yet guiltless wank over Piers' sultry tones. Okay, well. Not just one wank. He won't specify the actual number of times he indulged himself over the weeks, but by the end of it, he got it all out of his system, that's what matters!</p><p>(One thing he couldn't shake was how... <em> real </em> they all sounded. Like it wasn't just a performance, but that Piers was actually honest-to-god moaning because someone was making him feel that way. If Raihan felt daring—and he might as well be daring when his hand was already wrapped around his cock and his headspace wrapped around the very idea of Piers—he'd picture that it was him making Piers feel that way. His touches, his kisses, <em> his </em> presence and <em> his </em> love that affected Piers so much that he could sound so authentically shaken and gripped by merciless pleasure.)</p><p>What might be a little much is how many times he replayed the last three seconds of the recording just to hear Piers call him <em> love. </em>He's so stupidly done for he'd pity himself if he weren't so swept up in how amazing it feels to be head over heels. Piers has got him swamped with love and lust in equal measure. Unfortunately the latter won't chill out anytime soon, since his strong feelings only enhance how much he's attracted to the man sitting two feet away from him, waiting for him to start the music already.</p><p>Raihan adjusts his cans, settles comfortably in his chair, and presses play with a hard-pounding heart setting a prologue tempo.</p><p>It starts with a breath, so close to his ears he can almost feel hair tickling his shoulders.</p><p>He will never not be swept away the instant that voice starts up. Raihan's eyes fall closed and he sinks into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow to listen with as much concentration he can sink into this. Every inflection, every intentional rasp and dip and play on the voice break, he wants to absorb it all.</p><p>Piers' voice is a powerful one, he knows this from every time the man screams on pitch and wrenches his own heart out so everyone can see it bleed, but the song slipping through his earphone's speakers is anything but forceful. No relentless pressure, no big building impacts you can't help but stand still to be hit by. No, this right here is an enticing block of melting dark chocolate wrapped around a core of sweet poison. Capable of taming the listener not through force and spectacle, but through a smile and a curl of a finger and the implied promise that if you come closer, you'll be made very, very happy and never want for anything ever again.</p><p>It's seductive and disarming with an undercurrent of threat that you willfully ignore because it's just that tempting to get close to, and it makes Raihan's breath go shallow as he listens.</p><p>He can picture Piers singing this in a dark room, the heels on his boots as sharp as his fangs. Chains on the ceiling, empty cuffs and collars in hand waiting to be filled with wrists and necks offered beseechingly by those wanting to be well taken care of. Fuck, Piers deserves to have heads laid on his lap, people waiting on him hand and foot, who'll kiss his boots as easily as they kiss the back of his hand, with reverent, diehard adoration. If Piers asked for blood then heads would tilt back instantly, shirt collars ripped in invitation. Wrists would lift to his mouth and people would <em> beg </em> to be bitten. And Piers would bite, wouldn't he? Because he fucking loves having things inside that eager mouth.</p><p>Raihan nearly crumples out of his chair when a low chuckle, twisted with sinister amusement, winds around him and leaves his head spinning. Fuck, that... that's gonna kill people, right there. If this voice were a religion—hell, a cult—it'd have even the most virtuous of people throwing their robes off and clambering to convert.</p><p>By the time the song ends, his body's as weak and breathless as if someone took a pillow and smothered to near unconsciousness. His hands are clumsy in removing his headphones, and he can't even be bothered to set them properly on their stand. They clunk on his desk and he just sits there. Helplessly basking in the afterglow of what soul-stirring music can do to a person. His life is different now after listening to that.</p><p>To think, he gets to create something with this. He's no passive listener this time around, Piers is his partner in creation. This is just one building block of what they're about to make together.</p><p>Excitement buds and builds in his chest and fills up the hollowness Piers' voice scooped into him. There's a thousand things he could say, threads of different rambles swirling in his head, but! He holds his tongue. There's a time and a place for running his mouth. This is not one of them.</p><p>Instead, he turns in his chair, and lets a slow-growing grin do all the talking for him. He knows he's made the right choice when Piers looks up with a hopeful glint in his eye that slices right through Raihan's heartstrings.</p><p>"Yeah...?" Piers quietly asks. "You like it?"</p><p>Deep nod, wide eyes. Half leave his seat, arms open, and when Piers doesn't rear back he lurches forth and snatches the smaller man into his arms. He surges to his feet and hugs Piers tight enough to squeeze a wheeze out of him. Light enough to barely tip a scale soaking wet, Piers ends up with his feet off the floor and Raihan barely resists the urge to spin him around. Too much expensive equipment nearby to do that!</p><p>"Fucking resplendent, mate! Outstanding work! How many hours have you put into this? You must've worked crazy hard, mate, you're mad to have sung something like this in the time you did!"</p><p>"Need air in me lungs before I can answer," Piers gasps. "Put me down!"</p><p>"Sorry!" He sets him down and pats him straight, still smiling like he won the million-dollar musical lottery, which he did! He absolutely did! "This is so huge! You did wonderful work! It's so different from anything you've sung before but I love it! It's gonna drive people crazy, knock them on their arses!"</p><p>"That's what I went for," Piers says, smiling like he's doing his best not to, but can't help it, and it's beautiful. "I did put a ton of time into it. Rehearsed every single day after comin' home from work. Wanted to give it my best for ya."</p><p>If that isn't an arrow to the heart.</p><p>"Just you wait, I'll give my best right back. I can't wait to get started on mixing the whole thing together!" If he had less dignity he'd be hopping in place and squealing like a teenage girl who just planned her first sleepover. There's just so much to do! Fuck, okay, he needs to import this into the DAW, stat!</p><p>His chair rattles as he drops back into it, hands flying to his keyboard and mouse and he clicks and right clicks and drags and—</p><p>"Oi, oi, slow down there." A bony hand with a far stronger grip than he'd ever assume claps onto his shoulder and he freezes. "Before we get started I need to pop back home for a bit. Gotta feed Stagger and grab a few things. Wasn't expectin' to actually get work done today, but I'm open to it if you are."</p><p>"I very much am," he says with dead seriousness. "And yeah, that's totally fine! You go home, do what you need to do. I won't work ahead without you, promise. Now that we've got all our vocals recorded we can actually sit down and work together!"</p><p>The hand slips off his shoulder too soon. Damn, maybe next time Piers willingly touches him like that it'll be for longer.</p><p>"In a bit, then. See y—... ah. Well—no, nevermind. Catch ya later."</p><p>Oh no he doesn't. Raihan jumps back to his feet and strides to cut off Piers' exit, grin wide and knowing. Piers glares up at him but that little blush gives everything away.</p><p>"This still counts as a goodbye even though you're coming back tonight. Come on, bring it in. Raihan's waiting."</p><p>"Don't make it cheesy." Piers scoffs, but shuffles in anyways, and ohhh god he didn't expect that Piers coming to <em> him </em> like this would make him so happy to see. "You're the only guy I know who'll talk about themself in third person."</p><p>"Makes me memorable, doesn't it?"</p><p>"All too."</p><p>His arms wrap snug around Piers' sharp shoulders and soft hair tickles all around his skin as he slouches into an easy embrace. The instant those straight-angle arms fold around his waist the dopamine comes flooding. Doesn't matter that this is a platonic thing, it still makes him happy. Friendship with Piers is as fulfilling as it gets. If he asks this man on a date and gets turned down, he'll be fine as long as they can keep being friends. Hell, that's sort of what happened with Leon, minus the confession part. Back when they were university friends they were completely plastered one night and snogged the whole way to Leon's flat, and woke up hungover and naked in Leon's bed. After a brief chat about what obviously happened in the night, they toyed with the concept of dating, but mutually decided they were better off as friends, and had a laugh over the fact that football practice would be hellish if Raihan's arse didn't recover by Monday, and that was that.</p><p>Then again, his friendship with Leon was always rooted in the desire to remain friends for as long as possible. With Piers, Raihan knows he wants more. Has wanted more ever since day one. He wants to <em> have </em> Piers in as many ways as possible, and give him everything under the sun.</p><p>Whenever Piers is sad, he'll be there, and any time there's something on a high shelf he'll grab it for him, and he'll help take care of Stagger and maybe even add cat pictures to his social media to encourage people to adopt older animals, and Piers will never want for kisses or hugs, and they can share clothes and keep their toothbrushes in the same bathroom, and Raihan can make them coffee in the morning and cook breakfast and see Piers off to work with a peck on the cheek and <em> fuck. </em> He's really got it bad if he's having domestic fantasies.</p><p>Around his middle, Piers' skinny arms gently squeeze, as if they can sense how intense Raihan's feelings are. It'd be great if they never had to let go. Piers hugs like he's not sure how long he's allowed to have it. Good for him he's hugging a guy who'd spend all day tangled in another's arms if allowed. Raihan's always been a major cuddler and he's been missing someone to share all that skinship with.</p><p>
  <em> Haven't had hugs like this since... </em>
</p><p>"Hey Rai..." A soft voice clips his nostalgia short. "I was thinkin'..."</p><p>"What's up?" He stops himself from appending an affectionate 'baby.' Over text it's easy to give nicknames. Real life words have different weights to them.</p><p>"About what you said earlier... That thing about how you like knowin' what I like knowin'." Piers sighs and ducks his head down, which presses his forehead against Raihan's chest. "I just wanted t'say, likewise, you know? I wanna know what you want too. So I can... I dunno. Give back a little, I guess."</p><p>Give back? Like he doesn't already fulfill Raihan's desires just by existing? Fantasies aside, what he has in real life, right now, is plenty for him to be happy. The stuff he wants to do with Piers in the future doesn't stop him from appreciating this precious, precious present of Piers giving him the exact kind of attention he so craves.</p><p>He chuckles and loosens his arms. Piers leans back, gorgeous sea-clear eyes housing a defensive glare. "What's so funny."</p><p>"Nothing, nothing. You don't have to worry about what I might want." He gives the slender body in his arms a fresh squeeze. "I'm just fine. This right here is already perfect for me," he says with a smile that isn't quite returned.</p><p>"Alright... Offer still stands, though." Piers sounds unsure, meaning he wasn't reassuring enough. He'll have to work on that. Piers is scarily perceptive and it seems driven by gut feeling, which is the worst thing to hide from. "If you're ever feelin' off and need somethin' from me, let me know."</p><p>With more warmth projected from his smile, he brushes fluffy bangs out of the way, elated that he can do this so casually and Piers allows it, but also a bit on edge (not that he shows it), because what would have compelled Piers to say something like that?</p><p>"I'll keep it in mind. I'll see you later tonight, yeah? And hey!"</p><p>"What's it?" Piers pulls out of the hug and adjusts the sweater falling off his shoulder.</p><p>"Come hungry. I'll order something for us! You like Thai? Indian? Got a favorite chippy that does takeout?"</p><p>Piers rolls his eyes and turns his body along with it. "I ain't the least bit picky. Know that I'm only lettin' you do it 'cos I know <em> you'll </em> make a fuss if <em> I </em> make a fuss."</p><p>He snaps his finger into a point. Bingo. "You know me too well. Now, go take care of your little monster for us!"</p><p>- - -</p><p>Piers shows up at his door three hours later, toting not only that messenger bag he loves so much, but a large black case strapped to his back that Raihan instantly recognizes as a guitar. Not electric, acoustic! Boxy and curvy in all the right ways, unlike its owner, who's more angular in all the right ways. Save for that waist. And also that perfect handful (in theory) of an arse which he can't see right now but he knows is there.</p><p>Finished with his split second of staring that he knows Piers caught him in, Raihan stands aside so his guest can enter. He's much more at ease now that he's had time to get dressed and groomed properly.</p><p>"You have an acoustic!" he states, barely able to contain himself as he leads them up the stairs. "Didn't know you had one. I only saw electric ones in your studio at home."</p><p>"I've got more'n one room in my house, ya know. This one stays in my bedroom, so ya wouldn'a seen it."</p><p>Ideally, one day, he might. He'd love to see the majestic acoustic in its natural habitat: Piers' bedroom. And maybe he could glimpse a few other things while he's there, too. Like, you know. Piers himself. With or without anything additional on him, except his piercings. And maybe his accessories. Does he keep the choker on when he sleeps?</p><p>...Does he keep the choker on when taking someone to bed?</p><p>Would Piers let him pull that ring? Guide him down to tumble on top of him? It'd probably feel like a basket of coat hangers dumped onto him, but in a seductive way. Somehow. Honestly, Piers could strike him in the gut with an accidentally-weaponized elbow and Raihan would thank him for the contact.</p><p>Anyways, that guitar! If Piers brought it he must intend to play it. No cajoling needed on Raihan's part (even if he's more than happy to cajole). It'll be helpful for them both to have access to instruments if they need to demonstrate things to each other, so it was a good call to bring it.</p><p>Piers unloads his gear near the wall. He ditches his bag, unbuckles the guitar case, and does not extract the instrument just yet.</p><p>"This is your home turf, so I guess you can take the lead on what the hell needs to be done next." Piers drops himself onto the chair meant for him. "Ya got my vocals, and all those sound effects I recorded a while back, and the melody 'n bassline 'n stuff that I wrote too... Christ, I've barely given ya any room to contribute. Sorry 'bout that..."</p><p>"No, no, this is exactly how I wanted it to go!" He swings himself into his throne and spins to fully face his friend. "Your voice, your songwriting, <em> my </em> execution. Or, well... our execution. I welcome all your input! I want whatever we make to sound unique from both our individual styles."</p><p>Piers hesitates, shakes his head, and lets whatever it was go. "Already got unique handled on my end, then. Guess it's your turn." Piers nods towards the computer. "I saw earlier today that ya had some things you wanted to show me, wanna start with that?"</p><p>"Oh, you saw that stuff?"</p><p>Piers shrugs his bare shoulder. Was that sweater designed to hang off one's frame like that, or does it coincidentally do that on Piers? "Yeah, but I didn't snoop none, don't worry. Ya better show me whatever it is you deemed important enough to kill yer sleep schedule for."</p><p>He guiltily chuckles and pulls all those experimental songs back up along with his notes. God, six versions? ...Did he seriously just keysmash that last one? Must have been really bad. He nibbles his lip and debates. Let Piers listen to things he can't guarantee the quality of, or...</p><p>"Actually... none of that stuff's too important, I think I was just messing around. Why don't we start from scratch? It'll be good for you to see the whole process from start to finish!"</p><p>"Fair enough. Gotta admit I'm curious how you put music together."</p><p>"Great!" No chances of losing face that way. Plus, this way, they get to spend more creative time together. Win win! "Alright, so I already have a transcription of your melody here that I made last week. First off, let's combine that and your vocals into the same file and sync them up so we can get started building everything else..."</p><p>And thus begins the first time they've actually sat together and worked side by side ever since that initial concept meeting.</p><p>It's... rough at first. First times are always rough! Piers isn't used to anyone dabbling into his things, and gets crazy antsy any time Raihan wants to adjust something on the voice track (and he understands why—it's Piers' own voice, of course he'd bristle over someone editing it, and it's Raihan's job to prove that he only has the utmost respect for it, that Piers' voice is safe in his hands).</p><p>Meanwhile, Raihan's so used to having complete creative freedom over his stuff that accommodating someone else's wishes sometimes feels like a fun challenge to tackle, and sometimes like a handcuff.</p><p>The two of them are like a pair of gears who spin just fine on their own and have yet to attempt to mesh together and churn on the same task. It'll take more time to discover the ideal way to fit his gear's teeth within P—nevermind, time for a different metaphor. Something that doesn't involve teeth, fitting together, or grinding. Moving on.</p><p>A few times throughout the first two hours they nearly come to arguments, but thank god they kept their heat contained to the music itself instead of sending sharp words at each other. It's a great sign! He's worked with some really immature people before who did not know how to productively collaborate. This might be Piers' first crack at collaborating but he's doing a really good job. Brusque in all the best ways, which is great for fast-paced iterating. He suggests things Raihan never would have thought to try, and picks up on the whole electronic mixing process really quickly despite his wariness of it.</p><p>The only thing that tries Raihan's patience is Piers' tendency to cling to a single thing and drill it to the ground until he's satisfied. It wrecks their flow every time it happens, but it's fine! Nothing worth getting upset over. What matters is that they're both happy with the end product.</p><p>Hour three.</p><p>Piers sits back with a groan after yet another encounter with just how endless electronic sound-tweaking can be. "There's so many bloody options... How th'hell d'you pick the right one? This is fucking ridiculous."</p><p>He shrugs and makes a show of selecting a random sound preset in the synth in front of him, and demonstrates it by tapping a few pads. Nice and warbly with a bit of buzz. "I just pick whatever feels right. Tweak it if I need to. Whip something from scratch if I'm feeling particularly adventurous." He finger-drums a random rhythm. Sounds completely ridiculous, and is a much-needed stress reliever.</p><p>Piers clicks his tongue and leans closer to look at the screen. "I could never... all that flexibility would cripple me."</p><p>Yeah, no kidding.</p><p>"That's what you've got me for! I've never been one to let analysis paralysis freeze me up. If you're ever unsure of what to have for dinner, I'm your man."</p><p>"What, you want me to hit you up whenever I'm peckish and indecisive?"</p><p>
  <em> That, or you could let me take you out to dinner. I know some amazing higher-end restaurants that would be perfect date spots, what say you and I check them out? </em>
</p><p>His phone buzzes. "Or you could let me feed you. Speaking of, food's here!"</p><p>He escapes downstairs before he can see Piers' reaction and gathers the takeaway from the delivery girl without even a charming comment. He couldn't resist ordering sushi, something they could eat while keeping their fingers clean. Don't want to waste time touching napkins between bites and hitting his synths.</p><p>Well within their fourth hour, food cartons long set aside, the state of their song is such that Raihan doesn't need any note-keeping to track the concept they want to pull together. It's all right there—rough, yes, and full of holes around the stability of the vocals that need to be filled in, but still! Arguments about fine-tuning style and dealing with Piers' tendency to nitpick things into the ground were all tackled and wrapped up, and honestly? It was exhausting. But hey, they're in a good spot now! All the song needs now is hours of heads-down effort.</p><p>For now, though, god if he isn't ready to call it a night.</p><p>"Sure we can't keep goin'? We're makin' great progress, I'd say."</p><p>Raihan stretches back in his seat, arms high over his head and shirt slipping up his stomach. "Don't wanna—ugh, push it." He yawned right there. "We should let our ears rest."</p><p>
  <em> And let my brain rest. I love you, but damn, that was a workout. </em>
</p><p>Piers' eyes tear away from his waist. Oh, his shirt was riding up. And Piers was looking.</p><p>"Guess we have been at it for a while..."</p><p>He smirks and nudges his synths out of the way so he can lean an elbow onto his desk and prop his head up. "Any ideas for a breaktime activity that'll... refresh our senses?"</p><p>He's inspected, and he does his best to project innocence, all too happy to have those gorgeous blue-green eyes pricking at him.</p><p>"You seem a bit worn out for anything strenuous." Piers flashes him a wicked smirk and that's just not <em> fair. </em> "Let's just relax, then."</p><p>Dammit! Why did he yawn just then! It was probably just a tease and Piers wasn't seriously implying 'hey, I wanna fool around,' but still...</p><p>Raihan shamelessly pins his gaze on Piers' rear as he strolls away from the desk. Those skintight jeans leave nothing to the imagination. Every curve of that pert little arse is on display, wrapped in tight denim that would only get in the way of a good squeeze should he ever be lucky enough to fit his palm there. When Piers crouches down to mess with the guitar case, Raihan has to look away, but the image lingers in the forefront of his mind.</p><p>Fuck, you wouldn't even be able to jam a credit card into those back pockets when he's bent like that.</p><p>He finds his phone in his hand without remembering when he grabbed it. It's something safer to look at, and he'll lose his mind if he keeps thinking about Piers' butt or how nice it would be to hold those skinny ankles in both hands and press them into the air.</p><p>Raw habit takes him through a number of apps in rapid succession. Insta (scores of likes, comments, some personal messages he couldn't care less about), Twitter (that picture he posted at arse o'clock this morning is doing well), Discord (he'll skim these @'s and DMs later), personal email, work email, secondary work emails for his other DJ personas...</p><p>Phone number text messages. The route to reach him directly and personally without any chance of being muted or ignored. The method he likes getting notifications from the most, that he only gives out to people he really, really wants to hear from, of which right now there are two. One of them is right here in his room.</p><p>Not a single new message to be found. Day six of waiting... </p><p>A light strum distracts him from the lack of unreads on his screen. Piers is sitting pretty on the edge of his bed, shiny black acoustic cradled in his arms. A smart pluck holds a note in the air that wiggles when Piers adjusts the knob to tune it. He couldn't even tell it was out of tune, and here Piers is fixing it by ear.</p><p>His phone case clacks against the surface of his desk, face down. Nothing wrong with a little shameless listening. This definitely counts as relaxing.</p><p>Piers must have a habit of closing his eyes while he's making music. He does it when he sings, when he did that electric solo, and again, now, while tuning his guitar. It's kind of a shame, because Piers has beautiful eyes, but them being closed grants Raihan the opportunity to not be distracted by them and look at everything else instead.</p><p>A song he doesn't recognize as belonging to Piers' discography floats around between them and fills the open space of this large master bedroom. The plucks and flicks of his fingers and wrist are mesmerizing. The musician sways in place, forward and back, bangs a helpless pendulum. The silver choker that's always around Piers' neck catches the light and Raihan's attention both.</p><p>Earlier he thought about pulling the ring to lead Piers to lie down on top of him, but now he's thinking about pulling it a new direction. Up. It would straighten that endearingly awful posture, make Piers look at him, and act the perfect anchor for Raihan to lean down and go for a kiss.</p><p>Again as if reading his mind, Piers lightly smiles as he plays. Would his mouth be as cold as his hands? Or would his lips be warm, warmer than the rest of him? Fuck, that raises an important issue. How should their first kiss ideally go—if it happens at all. Still a possibility he gets rejected on the romance front, he's not so deluded as to think he's entitled to Piers' time or body or attention. All this wishful thinking probably isn't good for him if he really wants to prepare himself for potential rejection, but he's not that type of guy. Raihan always goes all in on things he wants. Right now he wants to think about kissing.</p><p>Their first kiss could be tender and romantic. It could happen after a first date, on the steps of Piers' little concrete porch after dropping him off at home. Or it could be something desperate, heated, a clash between two people who can't stand to keep their hands off each other anymore. Both are very good options. Either way, he'd treasure it, treasure <em> him, </em> and hold that lanky body close and brush that wild hair out of the way and wrap his arm a waist so slight it can hide behind an upright guitar...</p><p>"You sure stare a lot," Piers comments without looking up, strumming and strumming away.</p><p>"Can't help myself when you're so pretty."</p><p>The music pauses, and after the second it takes to fully fade, leaves the air starkly empty. Raihan's compelled to fill it with words, because it just now hit him that he was <em> way </em> too forward, but before he can offer an explanation, play it off as a joke, whatever falls out of his mouth first, the guitar picks up once more.</p><p>"Not one to hold back from doin' whatever you want, are ya."</p><p>If only he knew just how deep the current of Raihan's desires runs. "Sort of. I can't be indulgent in everything I'd like to be."</p><p>"Am curious what ways you can't." The melody changes to something rather familiar, and a flash of teal pulls his gaze up to meet it before he can parse the song. "You always struck me as someone who does what they please and gets away with it too. Bet hardly anyone says no to you."</p><p>Ah. Accurate. Unpleasantly so.</p><p>"Yeah, you're kind of right there." He shakes off the trap of eye contact and rubs the back of his neck. "Guess you could call me spoiled. Have almost everything I could want."</p><p>"Almost?"</p><p>He can sense the head tilt.</p><p>"Well, nobody gets <em> everything </em> they want in life. Not unless they're some kind of humble monk living it up in the mountains, I guess."</p><p>"Can hardly imagine you livin' without technology." Piers chuckles, dry and short. The song he's playing is familiar, so familiar, but he just can't place it. "Whatever would you do without social media."</p><p>"Probably die," he says, playing along. "I'd shrivel up without the admiration of the masses to keep my ego inflated."</p><p>"Hah!" That bark of genuine humor lifts his mood up. "Least you're honest. Me, I never got the appeal of all that shite. Always seemed like a cesspit of circlejerkin' narcissists to me."</p><p>"You're not that far off, actually. Take it from one of those narcissists."</p><p>"Ya ain't so bad, really. You're confident in what you've got, nothin' wrong with flexin' your strengths." His strengths? Right, like his smile and handsome face. They definitely are advantages in the battlefield of self-promotion. "I gotta give you credit for bein' able to juggle that shite. Must be exhaustin'."</p><p>The extension of empathy takes him by surprise. He figured Piers to be the type to always scoff and roll their eyes at the very concept of social media involvement. He subconsciously leans forward, just by a few degrees, to be closer to that kindness.</p><p>"Yeah, it... really is, actually. Lots of people don't realize how much time and work goes into maintaining an online presence. You've got to keep a schedule and post often so people don't forget about you. All your posts have to be attention-grabbing. Memorable. So people stop and read them instead of scrolling on by. Selfies are good for that since we're wired to pay attention to human faces, but if all your posts are selfies then your actual brand becomes an afterthought and that's not what you want. Ideally you have a following that's in it for your content, not because they think you're pretty, but I'll be honest, thirst-follows still bump numbers up so there's really no harm. And if you really want to bump the algorithms in your favor then community engagement is really important, so it's good to respond to comments and interact with anyone who interacts on your own posts, and obviously you've got to be friendly and energetic and make people feel special so they feel that connection and want to come back for more of you, and..." He shakes his head in self-disbelief. "There's a lot, yeah. It's basically a full-time job, but instead of getting paid for it, it's what enables and supports my actual work." He gestures at the clutter of his workstation.</p><p>A low whistle draws attention to the fact that the music stopped. Piers listened intently through all of that, and for no apparent reason Raihan wants to squirm.</p><p>"Don't tell me ya never get tired of all that maintenance."</p><p>"Well... I've got no choice but to keep it up, don't I? Can't lag behind the competition. Got to keep my name out there."</p><p>"Yeah, but all that energy that goes into smilin' and posin' for the camera and writin' all those hyped-up posts. Where d'you find the time to recharge?"</p><p>
  <em> With my friends, and that's all you. </em>
</p><p>"Hey, people have got different energy levels. Maybe you would need to take a break every time you smile for a camera, but I could do it all day." To demonstrate, he strikes a cheesy pose, a finger gun cupping his chin, and smiles his signature award-winning smile.</p><p>Piers only raises a brow. Some behind-the-curtain part of him goes on edge and he clears his throat and takes down the demonstration.</p><p>"Anyways—"</p><p>"You're just as handsome when you ain't smilin', you know that, right?"</p><p>"What?" He reflexively smiles in disbelief. Piers looks dead serious.</p><p>"I said wha' I said."</p><p>He does not know what to say to that. It's not a new thing <em> ("Show me </em> your <em> resting bitch face") </em> but it's still a foreign thing. A blocky square peg when all Raihan's got are holes he sanded round.</p><p>In the place of thoughts he can't organize, the guitar strikes back up, and the melody finally becomes familiar. It's one of his own songs, a single from ages ago that he'd nearly forgotten all about, translated to acoustic. Piers must have listened to his really old stuff and somehow memorized it to the point he can play it by ear. God, that's impressive. And kind of... really touching? The song has a completely different feel when played on real strings instead of electronically. It sounds more... authentic.</p><p>Raihan's chest tightens and he's suddenly desperate to change the subject. Before he can throw something out, though, Piers shivers. Perfect diversion.</p><p>He jumps from his chair and strides to the bed. Piers is cold, that's something he can fix right away. The AC is pretty strong, but he never notices it because he runs warm and is always wearing his own jackets around the house.</p><p>"Here, take this." He strips his hoodie off and holds it out. It's one of his softer ones, fleecy on the inside with a giant hood, and still holding warmth from his own body heat. "Can't let you be cold in my own house."</p><p>Piers looks like he wants to reject it, but shivers again, and Raihan grins triumphantly when he sets the guitar on the floor to lean against the bed, and takes the offered jacket with a cute glare.</p><p>"Fine. I'm gonna be swimmin' in this, hope you're aware."</p><p>He's very much aware.</p><p>Piers pulls the hoodie on and pulls some more to help the huge thing settle around his shoulders, and holy fuck.</p><p>"You're adorable," he says without a second thought. Where's his phone? Shit, it's in the pocket of the jacket, he forgot to take it out. He wants to get a picture of this, but maybe next time. If there is a next time. He will cry if there isn't a next time.</p><p>Another glare is hurled his way, but bounces right off. Raihan's impervious to any sort of bad mood with this sight in front of him. Piers in his clothes. Piers in <em> his </em> clothes. You can't even see his hands, they're lost in the sleeves.</p><p>"And you're shameless. You're lookin' at a person, not a puppy, so put those eyes away."</p><p>Piers is more like a kitten than a puppy, but that's an opinion he'll keep to himself for now.</p><p>"I'm just happy to help out!" His jacket nearly slips off Piers' shoulder and he fixes it in place before the sight of it can bowl him over. And while his hand is here, he adjusts the hood too. "Can't let anyone be cold. And oh, if you get hungry again, let me know and I can order us something else. I know sushi isn't filling for some."</p><p>Piers fixes him with a pondering look. "...You're so generous to me."</p><p>"Hey, it's part of how I show afff..." Piers lifts his sleeve-covered hands and swings his wrists to watch the fabric flop around. "...ppreciation," he diverts, throat suddenly dry.</p><p>"Affpreciation," Piers flatly repeats.</p><p>"Y-Yeah. Regional pronunciation, you know how it is."</p><p>No way is he gonna buy such blatant bullshit. Fingers crossed? Why did he divert from being honest, anyways? Nothing wrong with showing affection to your friends...</p><p>Piers shakes the sleeves up his arms to free his hands, reaches behind himself, and tugs the hood up over his head. It's so large that it covers the entire top half of his face, and Raihan wants to cry a little. He's free to stare at Piers' lips since he won't be caught doing it, and nearly misses the actual words that come out of them.</p><p>"Hm... Alright. I affpreciate you too, then."</p><p>...Wait. Wait wait wait.</p><p>Either Piers just threw down a whopper of an intimation, or he's just being absurdly cute on the friendship front.</p><p>Either way...</p><p>Raihan bites the corner of his lip and rubs his palm against his thigh. Glances back at his monitors. Back to Piers.</p><p>No reason to not extend this break for the rest of the night.</p><p>He sits himself on the bed next to Piers. He has no plan, no goal here other than to be close and show Piers a good time, and no, not in <em> that </em> way, as much as that would be a dream come true (literally, because he's literally had dreams about it). He wants to make Piers smile and laugh some more, have some fun. It's what Raihan's good at.</p><p>Under his weight, the edge of the mattress dips, and Piers' shoulder bumps against his arm. It would be so easy, effortless, to wrap his arm around the guy he's in love with. Instead, the only thing he extends is a question.</p><p>"Hey... how would you feel about hanging out for the rest of the night?"</p><p>"Why, so you can keep showering me in your regional pronunciations?"</p><p>"Got it in one!"</p><p>Piers laughs a little and leans against him. Or no, he's just adjusting himself within the hoodie. "Sure. Ain't got anywhere else to be tonight. Might as well spend it right here."</p><p>It's supremely difficult to not shout a confession on the spot. He has to nip his tongue and let the spike of pain clear his head so he doesn't jump up, flip the hood off Piers' head, grab his shoulders, and spill all the reasons why he's so easy to love and would he please please consider going on a date with this hopeless fool.</p><p>But he's got to say something, so rather than talk about the present, he dips into the past. Turns out Piers is extremely interested in hearing stories about his university days, and once prompted, the nostalgia comes flooding, warm and cozy.</p><p>He goes for the daring and embarrassing stories, because those are the best for getting a laugh. He's fine with revealing his shenanigans even if it comes at his own expense, because that's all he wants, to make Piers smile.</p><p>He tells the extremely embellished tale about how he lost his virginity his sophomore year at a house party, to this really cute red-haired chick from a nearby vet school who reeled him in while barely lifting a finger and rocked his world in an upstairs bedroom while everyone downstairs was none the wiser.</p><p>Piers is an attentive listener, asking questions in all the right places and sounding genuinely amused at the nonsense Raihan got tangled up in, either by accident or very much on purpose.</p><p>"You're tellin' me they let you get away with that? Swear down?"</p><p>"Cross my fuckin' heart, mate! And oh, wait until I tell you about the messes Leon and I got into!"</p><p>"Who...?"</p><p>"Leon!" Has he really never told Piers about him? He grins and sits up straighter, heart leaping when Piers really does lean against his side. "He's my best friend! Amazing guy!"</p><p>"Never heard you mention him before..." Piers muses. "Well, go on. I wanna hear about this bloke who's so close to ya."</p><p>He's more than happy to share.</p><p>"We started out as sports rivals at university. He went to Wyndon, see, and we met on the field and something just, zapped, you know? Like we had our eyes on each other as soon as we faced off. Brought out a serious side to me I hardly knew I had. I was never that serious about matches before, only played to have something to do, but after that, I threw myself into it. I wanted to play against him again."</p><p>"How'd you go from bein' rivals to bein' mates. Wyndon's a fair throw from Hammerlocke, ain't it?"</p><p>"Yeah, but we made it work. After one match we ran into each other at a pub and actually got to talk, and let me tell you, it's impossible to not befriend that guy. Two words out of that mouth and you're hooked. He's got such a big pretty smile. Most earnest person I've ever met, too. Everyone loves him, but all that popularity sails right over his head because he's so down to earth. He was so excited to talk to me, and how the hell could I say no to staying in touch? We hit it off instantly, became best friends in record time, and even after graduating, we..."</p><p>The glow in his chest flickers. He fans it back up, energizes himself with a daring move of putting his arm around Piers. When his friend doesn't freeze or stiffen or anything, it's all the encouragement he needs to keep going.</p><p>"We kept in touch. He went professional, plays for the Wyndon F.C. to this day. He's busy as a bee, what with the League's next season coming up soon, but, you know." He laughs, hyper-aware of the sound of it and fine-tuning it so it's not too loud, or too rough. Smooth and bright with a tint of what-can-you-do. "That's life. Even if we haven't seen each other in ages, we're still best friends. Don't need to chat every day for it to count. You think so, right?"</p><p>The probe for validation slips out before he can catch it. He wants to slap himself for it. Asking for external reassurance just screams <em> I have problems, </em> and Raihan's not supposed to have any problems. Especially not in front of Piers, who he's supposed to be entertaining right now. As long as Piers is happy, he's happy.</p><p>He notices too late that his arm is on the stiff side. Idiot, slipping like that. Relax. Chill out. Nothing stressful's even happening! Just a nice storytime. Sharing bits of his life with Piers, who's asking and asking for more. He needs to focus on more optimistic things, like how Piers is allowing him to half-hug him like this.</p><p>"Sounds like you two are close enough to not have to chat every day, yeah." Piers scoots a bit closer until he's tucked up against Raihan's side, under his arm. It's... For some reason, it's not as thrilling as it should be. "Why don't you tell me more? You sound real happy talkin' about him."</p><p>He sounds happy. Good, that's good. He wants to sound happy. He is happy! Happy to tell his friend about his other friend. These are necessary words, because otherwise Piers would know nothing about Leon, because for all Raihan knows, they'll never meet face to face.</p><p>So! God, where to start. There's just so much he can talk about. So many memories to sift through. Raihan's not forgotten a single moment of their time together, it's all there, all in his head. He's got endless stories from the good old days. Days that came and went. That won't be coming back. All those nights of sneaking out to have fun, supporting each other as they staggered down the lamp-lit cobbles, laughing in the rain. Staying up late to talk about dreams. Encouraging each other to do their best in all aspects of life. Claps on the back, spine-crushing hugs, smiles and jostles and the rare sleepover where they had no issues sharing a bed and lying close enough to share body heat beneath the covers.</p><p>Since Piers asked, he can't not oblige.</p><p>"Sure! I've got so many stories about him. We were two peas in a pod."</p><p>Piers shifts against his side, under his arm. "Were?"</p><p>"Are! We are!" Laugh it off. "Sorry, just stuck in the past for a bit, you know? Let's see, what's one of the funnier things we did..."</p><p>He's glad he shed his hoodie. He'd be awful warm now otherwise. Not from a blush or embarrassment, but from the slow creep of stress that's making its way up his body.</p><p>
  <em> It's just reminiscing about fun shit that happened. Get it together and relax. Piers wants to hear the fun stuff, bring out the fun stuff! </em>
</p><p>"O-Oh, right! There's that time me and my team planned to pull a prank against Leon's! I was sent over as a scout to scope their practice field out, but who would you guess was training in the middle of the night and caught me there?"</p><p>"...Leon?" The way Piers says his name. The accent, the curiosity. Raihan swallows.</p><p>"Bang on! He caught me out, and I couldn't lie to him, not when he's such an honest guy himself. Lying to him always feels like you're committing some kind of crime, so the only way to get around that is through omission, but when he gets curious about what you've been up to even that can make you feel bad. So I fessed up, and he gets this wicked glint in his eyes, and says, why don't we pull one over both our teams? And how could I say no when he said it like that? Framed as us against the world, like if it was us two together, we could accomplish whatever we..." Don't flag, keep it up. "Whatever we wanted."</p><p>The events of the past replay like a movie and he rattles it all off, ever conscious of pressing the right inflections and exaggerating just the right things. He's a great storyteller, and Piers is a good listener! He just—needs to distance himself from these past events a bit. They're too clear, too fresh in his head despite it being years. He can still see the exact tilt of Leon's smirk, the way the floodlights over the practice field washed out every vibrant color of him. The cold breeze tickling his neck and the warm arm slinging over his shoulders. That camaraderie, that warmth, the brilliance emanating from every corner of Leon, in his eyes and in his smile and in every touch and promise.</p><p>
  <em> If it's you and me, Rai, we can do anything! </em>
</p><p>Anything. Yeah, any and everything except see each other throughout their busy, successful, ideal adult lives.</p><p>"Raihan...? Raihan." Something presses against his side. Shit. Shit. He was squeezing Piers too hard. Such a gigantic tell. What the fuck is wrong with him, letting something like this shake him up? It's just. Telling. A story. About the one other person he could say he loves. Who hasn't seen him in months. Who hasn't texted him in nearly a week. Who's living it up as a shining star in a sky that Raihan's tired of flying up to in order to reach him. Would it fucking kill the guy to send a hello every so often? To make a phone call? A video chat? Is it so fucking hard?</p><p>"S-Sorry. Where was I." There's a knot at the base of his throat that's leaking strings of nausea down into his chest. "We were, ah... We decided to, hah, that's right, get a load of this! All his idea, brilliant bloke, he said, why, why don't we—"</p><p>The knot convulses and holds his voice box hostage. If he makes a sound it'll come out broken.</p><p>He hides it with a cough, and rises to his feet, peeling himself off the man he should have been so excited to sit so close to. "Bathroom," he hoarsely says. "Be right back."</p><p>"Rai, wait!" A cold hand clasps around his wrist. The touch should send sparks up his arm, should make him happy, but in this moment it's a manacle. Like a coward, he jerks his arm free and strides right out the room, tossing his other hand over his shoulder in a wave whose cheer is reflected nowhere on his unseen face.</p><p>He messed up. Big time. He was doing so well at telling fun stories and making Piers laugh and smile and want to be close to him, and he went and got tripped up by—what, missing Leon? Missing his best friend? It's natural to miss your best friend when they've been away for so long, so what's the big deal. He should have been able to sweep it under the rug and save it for later, for when he could put headphones on and blast Piers' music to help him confront his own messy feelings, but no, he just had to crack enough that his friend picked up that something was wrong. Funny, isn't it? He was so touched earlier today that Piers worried about his well-being, and here he is fleeing that very same thing.</p><p>He needs to pull himself together. He's Raihan, he's a happy guy. A man who can talk about anything with a smile and always have an entertaining anecdote at the ready.</p><p>The air of the hallway bathroom is chilly. He flicks the lights and closes the door, and turns to face the mirror.</p><p>He wants to laugh at what he sees. What the fuck is this wretched thing? Get that line out of your forehead. Lighten your mouth up. Corners of your eyes are too pinched. Erase it. Erase it all and start over so you can walk back out there and keep showing Piers a good time. Piers is here to hang out. To get to know him. To have fun with him. Can't have a fun, memorable time with a guy who lets something as trivial as missing a friend tangle them up, right? No, that's dull, awful drudgery. Lame and pathetic. He's better than that. He's Raihan, and Raihan is a person who smiles, carefree and easy.</p><p>He presses his palms on the cold countertop, takes a deep breath, and meets his reflection's gaze evenly. He can do this. Wipe everything clean, and build up from scratch.</p><p>He loosens his shoulders. Unclenches his jaw. Frees the pinch between his brows so they lift back up. Good, good, he's doing great. One step at a time.</p><p>Try a smile, why don't you.</p><p>...Or not.</p><p>That's fine, no hurry, it can be the last step. Smiling's supposed to be one of the easiest things in the world, but it's okay if it's a little hard right now. One thing at a time.</p><p>Deeper breaths, fresh air in to wash out the bad. Get all that nasty out. Raihan doesn't let anything drag him down. He's a fun guy, fun to be around, everyone loves him, adores him. Raihan makes people's days just by posting pretty pictures and inspirational messages littered with strategically-placed emojis and exclamation points and quips just this side of flirtatious. People love Raihan.</p><p>All it takes is a smile, and people melt just for him.</p><p>Go on. Smile. Fucking smile. Everyone's favorite thing about Raihan is how he can make them happy. Can't do that while down in the dumps.</p><p>
  <em> So move that mouth and smile. </em>
</p><p>The resulting attempt makes him want to shatter the mirror. What is that horrid thing? So fucking ugly, he can't show anyone this—he's Raihan, he's Raihan, and Raihan isn't supposed to be <em> this. </em></p><p>His eyes sting and oh, great, now he'll have to add that to the cleanup checklist too. No problem! He can just, take a little more time, wash his face, take more deep breaths, and try again. Making himself handsome and presentable and friendly and addicting to be around should be second nature by now, <em> is </em> second nature by now, so why is it so fucking hard to do something as simple—as brain-dead simple—as not be a total lame-arse crybaby who hurts over missing his best friend?</p><p>He's halfway through washing his face when there's a knock on the door. His heart lodges in his throat and he freezes with icy water cupped in his hands.</p><p>"Rai?"</p><p>No. No, no, he's not ready yet. He can't let Piers see him like this. Maybe if he doesn't answer, he'll go away.</p><p>"...Let me in? Please?"</p><p>It sounds like Piers is asking for more than just the opening of the door. He can't just tell Piers to fuck off. Or say that he's okay. Piers is perceptive, has been clocking him all day. All those little flickers of contemplation, that was Piers stitching hints together, wasn't it? Hints that he left because his facade wasn't perfect enough, which is all his fault. He needs to be better, starting with reassuring Piers that he's totally fine and nothing is wrong. If he's lucky, Piers won't even look at his face. Guy's got bad posture, Raihan's tall, it'll all work out.</p><p>He swallows once, twice, to make sure his voice doesn't have any telltale crybaby shakiness. "Door's unlocked."</p><p>He keeps his head turned away when the handle turns and the door eases open. He's got approximately two seconds to pull himself together and put on a happy face before Piers steps inside and he has to turn around and face him and <em> fuck, fucking fuck, the bloody fucking mirror! </em></p><p>Their eyes meet in the reflection. Cool sea-green to reddened, puffy frustration. Some flicker of understanding softens those pretty eyes and Raihan can't stand it, he doesn't want his position to be understood, he wants it to be ignored, brushed off, so they can go back to chatting and having fun and anything that isn't this.</p><p>Before he can try to escape being looked at by turning his back or telling Piers to leave or <em> something, </em> a pale hand slaps at the lightswitch and shuts the room down into blackness. A thin silhouette crosses through the strip of light streaming in from the door, and that light thins to a sliver and vanishes with a resonating click.</p><p>Darkness.</p><p>"H-...Hey. You ah, need the—need the bathroom?" He swallows to make room in his throat to push out a chuckle. Weakest fakest sounding shit he's ever made. "I don't judge a guy for pissing with the lights off. I'll, I can, leave you to it, yeah."</p><p>One step towards the door knocks him into a hard body that doesn't budge an inch. No denying it. Piers is here to confront him. He can hear it now, the disgustingly oozy "what's wrong?" poured all over him and clogging his senses with rank pity. At least the lights are off so he doesn't have to see Piers look at him like he's the sorriest injured-kitten bastard to be found on the side of the road. He doesn't want any of it. Doesn't want to be treated like he's delicate. Like he can't handle a little tough love. Piers takes an open breath and god, here it comes—</p><p>"You're gonna sit yer arse down," growls rough as gravel. "C'mere." A cold grip wraps around his arm and pulls him deeper into the small bathroom. Piers is walking blind but it's not like the layout's hard to memorize from the glance he must have taken before turning off the lights, and a second later Piers is seated on the edge of the tub and pulling him down to—to what, sit on the floor?</p><p>His legs are all too happy to buckle.</p><p>"The hell did you think I was gonna do, watchin' ya leave like that?" Piers feels around for his shoulders. "I <em> know </em> something's wrong, don't try to act like you're fine when you're not."</p><p>"I am," he rasps. Under cover of darkness, his body goes in full revolt. His face screws up and the urge to cry stabs at the back of his eyes. "I'm..."</p><p>"You're not," Piers insists, and now those hands are wandering, tugging, and Raihan, desperate for something to focus on that isn't himself, follows their direction until he's sitting with his back to the bathtub. Piers' legs are right at his side. If he were to tilt his head and lean, he could hide his face against Piers' lap, but that would be pushing it.</p><p>A hand settles on top of his head and he almost whimpers. "You're not fine. It's okay to not be fine, Rai. Don't fake anything with me. You're allowed to miss your friend."</p><p>Piers doesn't get it. That's not all of why he's messed up. It's not about missing Leon, it's about wanting to show Piers his best. To be as attractive and appealing as possible. He wants to <em> im</em>press, not <em> de</em>press. There's no point in hanging out with him if not to have a good time.</p><p>His throat's so closed up that anything he says will sound terrible. Fuck it, though. He's past the point of no return. Piers knows full well he's about to have an ugly breakdown, and he's still right here. Still with him.</p><p>The realization finally sinks in and stalls his breath before he can choke out a reply. Piers came for him. Sought him out. Hunted him down when he tried to run because Piers wanted to be close by. Piers was the one who reached out to him...</p><p>A cold hand cups his cheek and ear, and leans his head to the side. Towards a waiting lap. Piers doesn't mean to—does he? There's no way.</p><p>Raihan's lips purse tight to stop any embarrassing sounds from shaking loose. He wants so badly to throw himself into Piers' lap and soak up as much comfort as possible. He's a touch-starved leech who'll latch onto anyone who opens their arms for him, whether it's a one night stand or lately, the one guy who's open to hugs and lets him sit close and will touch his head and say sweet things. Such sweet things. One more sweet word and he might lose it and start bawling, which he doesn't want to do, he doesn't want to cry, but on the other hand, he's aching to have someone say it's okay.</p><p>Piers sighs, long and slow, and the sound makes Raihan want to find a place to hide. There's nowhere to run, not in here. "Look... You know what would make me happy right now?"</p><p>That gets his attention enough to force out a word. "W-...What?"</p><p>The hand on his head encourages him further towards Piers' lap. "For you to stop hiding parts of yourself from me. We're friends, ain't we? I'm here for everything you've got. So let me see you cry, love. I ain't goin' nowhere. I'll be right here, with you."</p><p>The soothing words skip right past whatever rational thought remains in his head and dig straight into his chest, where all the horrible gunky garbage is kept under lock and key, and smashes that door wide open. The force of it drags a gasp into his lungs that he almost chokes on.</p><p>His lungs seize once, twice, and all it takes is one low murmur and a stroke over his hair for him to collapse sideways, grab around Piers' legs, bury his face into a skinny jeaned lap and cry, cry, cry his busted heart out. The sounds clawing out of him are disgusting and broken and he wishes he had earplugs so he didn't have to listen to himself. Or better yet, that Piers had earplugs.</p><p>It's not even about missing Leon anymore. That's only one part of it, a little tiny drop in of the flood of messy shit trying to escape him while it has the chance to be released. He misses Leon, misses everything about him, and hates that he's so useless that he can't go a few measly months without seeing him face to face. He hates that he's so reliant on attention from strangers to fill the void of his best friend's absence. It's shitty, shallow attention. People look at him because he's got a pretty face. Because they think his music's good. They don't care about him as a person, they care about when he posts his next selfie, his next banger, when his next concert appearance will be. They want to buy his merch and scream his name and sometimes he even fucks them just to have someone to hold and pretend to have a connection to, but it's not real, they just care that they bedded someone sexy. They give no shits about who he is beyond the fame.</p><p>He's getting snot and tears all over these jeans. He'd pull away and at least keep his pathetic display to himself if he weren't so clingy and starved for someone, anyone, to give enough of a shit about him to be close by while he cries about his stupid problems. So many little fucking problems.</p><p>Smiling every day is hard and draining and it <em> sucks. </em> He gets sick of it sometimes, and sometimes wants to hurl his phone and computer off a cliff and never let another human being interact with him again. But he can't isolate himself, he'd only become even lonelier. He needs someone with him. He's codependent and weak and needs attention, needs touch, and at this point he's willing to fucking beg to make sure Piers never leaves him, not like Leon did. Leon left him behind to go live his own life and Raihan's here trying to cling to the past because it's the best he has to get that feeling of real companionship back.</p><p>At least... that's how it used to be, until Piers came along. One of his music idols. The guy who writes songs that are so good at reflecting the dark and twisted parts of how humans think and feel, that Raihan listens to as a lifeline. They remind him what it's like to be unapologetically angry, or sad, or full of regret. It's okay that he can't feel that stuff himself without being guilty, he has these songs as his emotional proxy.</p><p>And here Piers is now. Helping him through his shit not just through his music, but by holding him while he cries.</p><p>The whole time he's choking and shuddering and soaking denim with hot salt, Piers holds and doesn't let go, all the way until there's no more tears to shed and Raihan's chest is hollow and ringing. His head hurts and his face is sore from being wrenched into expressions he hasn't held in a long, long-ass time.</p><p>His shoulders shudder, and his nose is plugged to hell and needs periodic sniffling, but other than that... he's empty. Now what? Is Piers gonna pat him on the back and make him get up now that he's done crying?</p><p>Raihan tightens his hold around Piers' legs. He doesn't want to go just yet... He's not ready to step back out into the light, where he has to see himself again. He wants to stay right here in the dark, safe and comforted in his friend's lap, and be touched and soothed and touched some more. It's not like he can just ask for that, though. Not without coming off as crazy needy when he already made a mess of Piers' jeans.</p><p>A hot bubble of shame takes up all the empty room in his chest. Piers said it would make him happy if he stopped hiding stuff, and let himself cry, but... that doesn't mean it wasn't a burden on him. All he wanted to do tonight was show his friend a good time. Not ruin his clothes and dump years of repressed emotion into his lap, literally.</p><p>He almost misses Piers speak. It's low and soft, and worryingly conversational.</p><p>"Can I do somethin'?"</p><p>After all Raihan just put him through, Piers is entitled to do whatever the hell he wants.</p><p>His throat aches too much to speak, so he nods. Then remembers that it's ink-black in here, and forces a grunt that can read as positive.</p><p>A gentle touch explores down his arm. Raihan pries his grip loose when he realizes Piers is aiming for his hand, and offers no resistance as it's tugged over a skinny lap and held palm-up. What's he doing...?</p><p>The shame weighing his chest down dissipates away when guitar-calloused fingertips stroke his palm. The touch is light enough to trigger his skin's sensitivity and gather the majority of his available attention.</p><p>"Your hands are so big... How much lotion do ya go through keepin' 'em so soft?"</p><p>He's not dumb, he recognizes this for what it is. A tactic to comfort, and distract him from himself.</p><p>It's working.</p><p>He has to swallow before he can talk. "A lot," he forces out.</p><p>"I think I'd like to borrow some of whatever you use." Piers swirls a spiral into his palm. "You keep any in your bathroom?"</p><p>"There's..." He clears his throat with a cough and cringes at how wet it sounds. "Spare bottle here." He blindly gestures at the counter with his free hand. "I keep lots."</p><p>"Can you get it for me, love? Can't see for shite, 'm afraid."</p><p>
  <em> You're the one who turned off the lights. </em>
</p><p>He nods, not caring that Piers can't see it, and gingerly gets to his feet. Nasty blood rush, ugh... The bottle of lotion is right where he remembers it, and he grabs it without knocking anything over, and sits himself back down in front of Piers, who takes it with a small thanks. The cap popping open is loud as a gunshot.</p><p>"Smells real nice. Think I took too much, though. Here, gimme your hand again."</p><p>He can smell the vanilla, edged with lemon. Instead of merely swiping excess lotion onto his palm, Piers grabs his hand and smears their palms together, full contact. He jolts at the slick sensation but otherwise holds still. Piers is... applying it to both their hands at the same time.</p><p>"Can ya help me out, here?"</p><p>"S-Sorry. Yeah."</p><p>Gingerly, he closes his fingers around Piers'. That earns him a croon of approval, and Piers sets to work tangling, rubbing, and pressing their slicked fingers and palms together until they're both coated with lotion. The lubrication makes every rough callus a stark island of sensation across the otherwise-smooth plane of Piers' touch. The slick scrape of them is kind of pleasant... Raihan makes sure to help out too, by rubbing his thumb into that broad palm and massaging the lotion into the spots he can feel need it the most. His knuckles are rubbed over one at a time, firm and gentle and rhythmic, and when Piers turns his palm over, he returns the favor.</p><p>He can see why Piers did this. It's all sensation, all focused touch. The perfect thing to ground him after falling apart, and he appreciates the thoughtfulness more than he could ever vocalize.</p><p>There's a few spots they still need to cover on each other. Raihan bites his lip and stills Piers' ministrations, and with a slow, telegraphed glide, laces their softened fingers together. Just to get lotion in this last set of spots between their fingers.</p><p>It's almost like holding hands. It... kind of does become holding hands, when Piers makes no move to pull away. No more words come, either. Only silent, patient anticipation.</p><p>His head's clear enough now that he thinks he can hold conversation.</p><p>Deep breath, exhale. Don't think about how terrible you sound.</p><p>"Hey... I'm... sorry for losing it like that."</p><p>"Don't be." Somehow, that's exactly what he expected Piers to say. "If you wanna apologize for anythin', then say sorry to yourself for keepin' that shit so pent up. It ain't good for ya, just like bad sleep ain't good for ya."</p><p>"I know, I know..." He sighs and rests his cheek on Piers' thigh. "I do have a way of venting stuff out normally, that isn't... this."</p><p>Piers squeezes his hand. "Mind sharin'? I wanna know so I can help out when you need it."</p><p>"You already do help out. More than you ever knew," he quietly says. He rubs across the back of Piers' hand with his thumb. Time for a very personal admission. "Usually, when I need to feel bad, I... listen to your music."</p><p>"Er... Sorry, but..."</p><p>"I didn't mean like that, sorry. It's just... your music's really emotional. And none of it's optimistic. It's all... messy and complicated. Kinda dark at times." He tightens his grip around the hand that's played the guitar in all the songs that helped keep him sane. "They help me feel stuff I have a hard time feeling. It's really cathartic."</p><p>"...Are they emotions you have a hard time feelin', or are they emotions you try to avoid?"</p><p>He winces. Caught. "The latter..."</p><p>Without needing to see, he knows Piers is waiting for an explanation. Raihan sniffs uselessly through his plugged-up nose. No breathing through that anytime soon.</p><p>"I just feel like it's not... allowed? Like, I've got this whole persona built up. All my fans expect certain things of me, and I- I can't let them down by being anything else. I can live those other parts of me by listening to your music. It gives something back to me that I'm... not allowed to have anymore. Stuff no one wants to see on me."</p><p>"Raihan..." Piers pushes at his shoulders. He guiltily sits upright and rubs at his eyes with his non-lotioned hand. Piers doesn't seem keen on releasing him, which is fine by him. He'll hold on as long as allowed. "I don't think ye need me to tell ya that ain't healthy. Performin' as someone constantly happy... that'd drive anyone mad before long. I certainly don't want you keepin' that up around me."</p><p>"But..."</p><p>Piers slides off the edge of the tub and sits down on the floor next to him. "What's there to be 'but' about?"</p><p>This is embarrassing to admit at a time like this. He's on an honesty streak, though, so... here goes nothing. "You're the person who makes me want to be happy the most. You make me happy, and... I wanna make you happy back," he softly says. "I can't do that if I'm all messed up and sad."</p><p>A light weight, cushioned within a borrowed hoodie, falls against his side. "I hate to call you names, but don't be stupid, love." Piers lifts their joined hands between them. By now his eyes have adjusted to the dark enough that the sliver of barely-there light from the crack beneath the door is sufficient to make out the rough shape of Piers' pale arm. "Knowin' I can help you makes me happy. Knowin' you ain't hidin' your hurt from me makes me happy. And I can't not mention that you as a person make me happy, too. I'm really glad we're friends, Raihan. Wouldn't give you up for anythin', especially not for somethin' like you havin' human feelings."</p><p>The warmth in Piers' voice makes him wish the lights were on, just so he could see how Piers might be looking at him right now. His imagination fills in the blank. It's wondrous how easy it is to picture a face from the color of a voice, and he goes breathless from what he can't see.</p><p>"Piers... I..." His voice trembles. He sniffles and swallows and tries again. "I... sh-shit, 'm gonna fucking cry again." A wet laugh tumbles out of him. Yeah, there's the new tears. "You're real good at making people feel stuff, you know that, r-... right?"</p><p>The voice that guided him through his own mess takes a turn for the sly. "Well, as a songwriter, I'd say that's a job well done fer me. You feelin' better, love?"</p><p>He chuckles and slouches until he nearly hits the back of his head against the edge of the tub. The only thing that stops it is his legs bunching up against the cabinets. "I will if you keep calling me that."</p><p>"Like nicknames, do ya?"</p><p>"Only f-figuring that out now, baby?"</p><p>Piers' laughter fills the small space of the bathroom and seeps into all the exposed cracks in Raihan's heart. "I'd say you're right as rain if you're well enough to flirt. Come on, let's get up."</p><p>"But I'm comfortable!" he whines for the sake of whining.</p><p>"Tch, you're only sayin' that 'cause I'm holdin' your hand. Get up, ya big lug, I won't let go if you won't."</p><p>That's all the encouragement he needs to sort (three out of four of) his limbs out and rise from the tiled floor with a groan. The head rush nearly knocks him back over.</p><p>"Easy there, big guy." He can hear Piers patting at the wall. Looking for the door handle? No, wait, shit—</p><p>
  <em> Click. </em>
</p><p>The bright lights assault his eyes and he hisses. Damn that hurts...</p><p>His reflection is blurred through his squint. He'd very much like to get away from the mirror before his eyes adjust to the light, but Piers is blocking the way and also looking at him through the reflection.</p><p>
  <em> I see what you're doing. Okay, alright, guess it's meaningful and all that to have a look... </em>
</p><p>Once his eyes finally acclimate, he bites the bullet and looks at his face. It's a good thing he's emotionally exhausted. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to look in the mirror and not feel revulsion at what's staring back at him.</p><p>"...That's one sorry-looking son of a bitch right there," Raihan says.</p><p>There's just no sugar-coating it. His eyes are red as fucking raspberries and his hair is a tousled mess from Piers playing with it while he cried. Ugh, and his face is so puffy...</p><p>Piers' reflection rolls its eyes and smiles up at him. Pretty as a picture, with that hoodie nearly falling off his frame. "Yeah, and that sorry son of a bitch is gonna be just fine."</p><p>He tears his eyes off his reflection and gazes down at the man looking up at him with such open fondness. Piers cares. Deeply cares, about him as a person. As a friend. Fuck, he doesn't care if his future love confession flops, this right here is something he wants to guard for the rest of his life.</p><p>"Yeah," he agrees, and before he knows it, a tiny smile grows, all on its own, on his ugly, puffy, post-sob face. "You're right. Think I will be. Thanks."</p><p>"Anytime, love." His hand is squeezed once more, and Piers flashes him a heart-stealing grin before turning and opening the door to let them out at last.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Later that night, long after they've exchanged tactile goodbyes and Raihan found himself minus one hoodie, a text lights up his phone as it rests face-up on the nightstand. It's a picture of Stagger, a gigantic furry ellipse eclipsing the entirety of his owner's lap. Accompanying message: <em> pretty popular place tonight. </em></p><p>He snorts and fires back a quick <em> I warmed it up for him. </em></p><p>It kind of helps—really helps—that Piers can make casual, lighthearted references to the drama that was his breakdown. It makes it seem like not a big deal, and maybe it isn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Just a bump in the road that happened between them that they got over together.</p><p>Not five seconds after his text, the typing indicator bobs up. Then vanishes. Then appears again, and not long after, another message comes through.</p><p>
  <em> and it'll stay warm for whenever you need it, luv </em>
</p><p>He chuckles and writes his final response for the night. It's late, well past midnight. Gone is the urge to text back as fast as possible and carry conversations for as long as they'll run. He's content letting his thread with Piers rest with one final message on his end.</p><p>
  <em> Thanks. I aff-preciate it ❤️</em>
</p><p>He doesn't have to cling and chase as hard as he's been doing. If there was one thing that was proved tonight, it's that Piers is here for him, and isn't going anywhere.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Two more to go, folks...</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242">三</a> DREW AMAZING FANART OF THIS FIC, PLEASE LOOK AT IT, BOTH AT <a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242/status/1301594035220410374">DJ RAIHAN</a> AND <a href="https://twitter.com/dnkb_242/status/1301598086721011712">PIERS AT THE BAR</a> FROM CHAPTER 1!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. To Be Close</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's 1am but I haven't gone to bed yet meaning it's still Sunday in my mind, meaning this still counts as a weekend update B)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They don't see each other for weeks, because as cursed luck would have it, both of them are swamped with work, sometimes at the same time and sometimes overlapped onto each other's free hours. Raihan's got larger gigs several cities over under his best-known stage name that he can't possibly cancel, while a few unjust firings from Piers' workplace dragged him into pulling extra shifts on weekends.</p><p>There is one saving grace to the forced distance: Piers no longer worries about taking up too much of Raihan's time via text. All those blocks of time where he kept away to grant Raihan hours of his own space? Obliterated. All day is fair game, whatever time he can spare, and the only reason he allows it is because Raihan seems to have relaxed a great deal about staying on the ball communication-wise. Piers can send a text over lunch and not have it be answered until an hour later. Usually being made to wait would only generate anxiety, but after knowing more about Raihan's... he doesn't wait to say <em> desperation, </em> accurate as it might be, Piers finds the relaxed communication to only be a positive sign, that Raihan feels more secure about their relationship. Enough that he feels no need to drop everything to reply.</p><p>One other thing that's changed for the better is how much more honest Raihan is about how he's doing. He's never just "great!" or "doing well, how about you?" When Raihan has a stressful day or his music isn't going the way he wanted, or if he's tired, or hangry, he says so, and they get to talk about it. Piers feels weird for deriving satisfaction out of being told that his friend's having a bad day, but it really is a strong step forward for them. Their friendship feels that much more reciprocal. Makes the distance tolerable.</p><p>He still misses the guy something fierce. They've become so much closer since that night, and it's as lovely as it is double-edged, because the more you like someone, the harder you feel their absence.</p><p>It's currently Sunday, and Piers escaped his hellish, unwanted morning shift by cornering a coworker who owed him the favor. He was desperate to get out of there because this weekend is special, and not for any reasons related to his best—his friend.</p><p>This weekend is a school break for Marnie, and Marnie always calls on the Sundays of breaks. Whenever she's able, that is. The last time she had a break, she wasn't able to phone him, and apologized profusely over text. He wasn't too torn up about it even if he missed hearing her voice, because he knows she wouldn't have missed calling unless her hands were truly tied.</p><p>Outside of those rare skipped chances, the calls usually come in the afternoon, and as the clock ticked ever forward, past noon, past one, past two, Piers knew that it had to come soon, and sure enough, quarter til three, it happens.</p><p>The phone only needs to ring twice before it's answered. This particular ringtone, one he set up unique just for his sister, is the only reason he keeps the device off silent when the time comes.</p><p>"Hey!" He paces straight to his bedroom and flops onto the narrow bed. The mattress creaks and groans as he settles into a happy curled-up ball inside the large fleecy hoodie draped around him, already smiling in anticipation to hear his favorite voice. It's been ages.</p><p>"Piers! Ugh, sorry I couldn't call you last time, school projects had me dead busy."</p><p>"Don't fret about that, I'm glad to know you're workin' hard at school. I can wait."</p><p>Stagger hobbles into the room like he always does when Piers rushes anywhere, eager to follow and exist in the same space as him. The old thing preps himself to jump. And preps, and preps. Takes a while to psyche himself up.</p><p>A sharp sigh cuts through the shitty speaker while Piers watches Stagger focus intently on the bed. "That makes it sound like you're not happy to hear from me."</p><p>"I am! Marns, you know I love hearin' from ya," he pleads.</p><p>"I know, I was just pullin' your leg." He can hear the lack of any real upset. "Besides... I missed you too." The admission is tiny, like she's embarrassed to admit it. Brings a smile to his face.</p><p>Stagger, having finally prepared his limbs and mental fortitude, leaps up onto the bed in one graceful arc. His paws are already working hard at churning the thin blankets. Bakery's open for business.</p><p>"I trust school's goin' well with how smart and hard workin' ya are. How are your mum 'n da doin'?"</p><p>Marnie hesitates, like she always does when Piers refers to her parents as exclusively hers, and he curses himself for the slip. "They're doin' good. Glad I'm doin' well academically. I'll tell 'em what you've been up to, too, after this."</p><p>Hard not to roll his eyes. They won't care. They've never cared about whatever the fuck he's been up to ever since they made him move out at eighteen, and he's long, long over it. Marnie still isn't, and Piers is waiting it out, for the day when she accepts that that's just how the cards folded. He doesn't hate them, but he'll never pretend that he harbors fond feelings for them beyond gratitude for the life they provide his little sister.</p><p>"Tell 'em I'm doin' just fine, thanks." Stagger turns in a ponderous circle and settles into a large, dense disk, feather duster of a tail covering his nose. "Job's goin' alright, music's doin' good."</p><p>"Oh, how's your latest album doin'! You were so nervous about releasing it it almost made <em> me </em> nervous."</p><p>He'd almost forgotten about the damn thing and its poor sales. Silver lining though, if it weren't for <em> Optimism of the Undertaker</em>'s shite sales, he never would have gone to that club to drown his frustrations, meaning he never would have heard that remix, meaning he never would have ever met Raihan. So, yeah. Thanks, shite sales, owe you one.</p><p>"It's... doin' alright. Had a slow start, but my stuff's pretty niche to begin with, so no big deal." He clears his throat. "I'm actually workin' on somethin' new already. Real new, never done anythin' like it before. I'm collaboratin' with—"</p><p>"You?" Marnie gasps. "Workin' with someone else? Who are you and what've ya done with Piers, I thought he took pride in bein' all artistically independent."</p><p>Heat rises to his face as quickly as he is to defend himself. "This was a special case!"</p><p>"Must be! How the hell did you ever agree to work with anyone? Nice 'n soft-hearted as I know ya to be, you're a right prickly guy fer anyone else to try an' get along with."</p><p>It's not worth calling her out for her language, there's more pressing things at hand. Besides, Marnie's deeper lapse into her natural accent is worth smirking over. At her boarding school, and at home with her parents, she adopts a more posh manner of speech, and it's good to know that she can still speak what's most comfortable, even if it's only around her brother.</p><p>"It's a weird story, alright? Surprised me too. Couple months back I randomly met someone who..."</p><p>
  <em> Is a fan of mine. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Is the most passionate about music I've ever seen in a person. </em>
</p><p>"Who, er..."</p><p>
  <em> Inspires me to get outside my comfort zone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Makes me feel heard, and wanted, and like my art is really worth something, and I think he's my best friend even though he's already got his own best friend, which is just how the socials worked out and I'm oddly okay with that, because how lucky am I to be close to him in the first place? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Someone who I really like. </em>
</p><p>"...Someone who I don't mind," he summarizes. No need to spill all the mushy, profound details of all the things Raihan did, still does, to him. "We hit it off pretty fast. He ain't bad, that's all."</p><p>"Not bad is high praise from you... Tell me more about 'im, then. He a musician like you or what?"</p><p>"Sorta. He's got a different set of musical chops from me. Does electronic stuff, moonlights as a DJ, all that sort of thing. Real skilled, pretty well-known. Only reason he'd bother with a punk like me is 'cause he just so happened to be a fan," he says, unable to stop the pride (well-earned, he'd say) from leaking into his voice. "He likes my stuff. And I never thought I'd be into EDM but after givin' his music a listen I really like it. He's made remixes of my songs, can you believe that?"</p><p>Marnie thoughtfully hums. "And you're workin' with him, you said? Who asked who?"</p><p>"I did," he admits with minimal bashfulness. "We're makin' a song that blends both our talents. He's real good at what he does, Marns, you wouldn't believe it."</p><p>"He your age? Look shady at all?"</p><p>"Can't be any older'n me, max. And nah, he's a looker. Insanely tall, nice smile..." A flash of blue in his memory. "Real nice eyes..."</p><p>"And how is he as a person?" The question is delivered neutral enough to not raise any flags. "Like, your opinion of him. Not as a music person, as a normal person."</p><p>Thanks to his obliviousness, he answers thoughtlessly. "Like him quite a bit, why?"</p><p>The prolonged pause raises his guard and he gets the distinct sense that he revealed more than was good for him.</p><p>"That's a long way from sayin' he ain't bad." Marnie's sly voice winches his eyes shut. Fuck. "You must <em> really </em> think he's cool."</p><p>"Don't read too far into it."</p><p>"Why? You sayin' there's somethin' to read far into?"</p><p>His silence is enough of a confession that Marnie, with that sharkish blood-in-the-water instinct that little siblings have for detecting weaknesses they can tease about, sweetens her voice and asks that damning question.</p><p>"Sounds to me like you <em> like </em> like him. You praised him straight! You ever thought about snoggin' and holdin' hands with this insanely tall Mister Nice Eyes?"</p><p>Little does she know that the answer to the former is yes, and the answer to the latter is 'we already have, well, sort of, I'm not sure it counts because we only did it to help him come down from sobbing all over my lap.'</p><p>He shoves the fleece-wrapped crook of his arm over his steaming face only for a second. The scent of Raihan curls around him and he's forcibly reminded that he walked away with the man's hoodie last time they were together, and that he's wearing it right this second. He wore it every second he was at home today. And yesterday. And the days before... It's comfortably oversized and warm, that's the only reason he's been living in it this past week.</p><p>
  <em> Bullshit lies. You're wearing it because it's Raihan's. </em>
</p><p>"Your silence speaks volumes. Admit it!"</p><p>"Marnie! I—We ain't like that, come on." His chuckle is nervous and he knows Marnie is raking in the evidence like a trigger-happy detective.</p><p>"That's not a yes or a no, brooo," she singsongs. "I need more details about this guy so I know my brother's in good hands! You've owed me ever since I told you about Gloria!"</p><p>"In what way was that transactional!"</p><p>"Ever since I said so. My personal details, my choice on how much they're worth." She gets wilier every time they talk. "I'm dyin' of curiosity here, you've never sounded this excited about someone since you adopted Stagger, and he's just a cat."</p><p>"He's not just a cat, Marns, he's a valued member of the family."</p><p>"Uhuh. No redirectin'. Fess up and tell me about your crush."</p><p>"He's not my—!" He's got to calm down. She'll argue him into circles if he keeps up the knee-jerk denials. He's got to step up and lay his own facts down, cool and collected. "Marnie, he's my friend. We're friends."</p><p>"Tell me about your friend, then," she says, with just enough sarcastic edge to tell him that she doesn't believe a whit of his panicky nonsense, but not enough to entice him to call her out. She's quite talented at staying on just this side of that line.</p><p>He retaliates with a sigh of his own, that says <em> I know what you're doing but am taking the high road and choosing to ignore it. </em></p><p>"I will, thank you very much. For starters, he's a <em> great </em> friend."</p><p>"Oh, yes. I'm sure. And?"</p><p>She really won't let this go until he tells her more about Raihan... For some reason, he doesn't feel secretive or reluctant to share. Teasing and pressure aside, Marnie is his sister, and there's no one better he can talk to about this new bombshell presence in his life. Might even be a relief to get this off his chest and tell someone how he feels about the guy.</p><p>"And... he's energetic. Passionate about what he does." Raihan's got a buffet of positive traits; it's all too easy to make a selection to put on Marnie's plate. "He's always thinkin' of others before he thinks about himself."</p><p>Ironic, given the typical stereotype of a social media addict is narcissistic. Raihan's not doing all that social media nonsense out of self-absorbed entitlement, though, he does it because he cares too much about others' happiness and wants to give his everything to them. Something Piers intends on throttling. Raihan needs to direct more of his energy inwards instead of scattering it to the masses like Mardi Gras beads off a parade float.</p><p>"Very warm personality, too. Smart, kind. Educated but not haughty about it. And he's got this... draw to him. He really pulls me out of my comfort zone. Half the time it ain't really pullin', though, more like he motivates me to step out on me own. And he's real conscientious. Always backs off when he notices I ain't all there."</p><p>It's enough to make anyone feel loved.</p><p>Piers' smile diminishes a few lumens (meaning he was smiling to begin with; when did he start?). Almost to himself, in the space of Marnie's patient silence, he continues, softer than before.</p><p>"He's easy to embarrass. Really physical, loves hugs, which I don't mind. Took some gettin' used to but now I quite like it. We text every day and he's real fun to talk to. Cracks me up sometimes, makes it bloody hard to not laugh at work. Almost makes my day job tolerable. And would you know, he..."</p><p>
  <em> He really likes someone like me, and would you know, I really like him too. </em>
</p><p>Piers pushes himself to sit criss-crossed, staring straight at the opposite wall, phone held slack in his hand. Marnie prompts him to finish his sentence, and goes ignored.</p><p>His gut is telling him something's not right here. On the surface it's preposterous that anything could be off. He's just telling his sister about his friend, what's so strange about that?</p><p><em> Sounds to me like you </em> like <em> like him. </em></p><p>A prickly thrill crawls up his spine and he shivers within the stolen jacket.</p><p>...Oh no.</p><p>Please let it just be sibling teasing. Please let her not be right. There's no way his feelings towards Raihan are that strong. Nevermind that the bloke's been showing him all kinds of things he's never felt so powerfully before. Shit, what if he really—he needs a moment to think about this.</p><p>Piers' hand drifts up to the side of his neck and he presses his fingertips beneath his jaw.</p><p>
  <em> Thmp. Thmp. Thmp. </em>
</p><p>He thinks about Raihan's smile, the genuine kind, shined just at him. The stupid puns and jokes he's sent over text that are awful but make him bite back laughs every time. The instances of generosity, whether successfully extended or merely offered only to be cut short by him because he can only handle so much at once. He thinks of the reassurance, the praise, the way Raihan's attracted to him but never lets it get in the way of their interactions, because their friendship matters more than satisfying any physical desires. He thinks about the fiery glint within those pretty blue eyes whenever Raihan talks about music or art or whatever else takes up space in that gigantic heart of his. The heat and weight of that large body draped around his shoulders and pressed against his front, the richness of his laugh, the sheer amount of happiness Raihan can emit, no holds barred, unapologetic in his passion and drive.</p><p>
  <em> Thmp-thmp-thmp-thmp-thmp— </em>
</p><p>Heat creeps up the back of his neck. He tears his touch away from his jugular and his thumbnail finds itself between his teeth while his bent knee bobs allegro. Okay. Those sure were some physical implications. But anyone with two eyes and a brain would be affected by Raihan's Raihan-ness. There's more to liking a guy than just the nice stuff. Piers has the privilege of being privy to the flipside of Raihan's positivity.</p><p>Not for the first time within these last several weeks, Piers' mind drifts to the last time they were face to face. How Raihan froze when their eyes met in the mirror, as if ambushed by a gorgon who'd shatter his petrified self to pieces. As an act of mercy, Piers shut off the lights to spare Raihan the stress of looking at himself, and of being looked at by someone he didn't want seeing him in such a state.</p><p>He thinks about those messy tears, the way Raihan clung to his legs like it was the last chance he'd ever get to hug another person. The dampness pressed into his jeans, and the apology sent his way in the dark. The hand-holding. The closeness. The comfort. With Raihan under his care, a tidal wave of protectiveness and care had surged and swamped and drowned him, that doubled in force when he realized that Raihan didn't want to stop holding hands. Piers knew, swore to himself right there in that dark bathroom that he would do his best to take care of Raihan's heart. Because Raihan takes care of him, and by god he'll take care of Raihan too.</p><p>Raihan makes him feel cared for and loved, and he wants to return that feeling tenfold.</p><p>...And what reason would Piers have, to so fervently want to give, to return, reciprocate, if he didn't legitimately care for and love Raihan back?</p><p>Piers' throat goes a little dry. His hand loosens enough that the phone slips an inch in his limp grasp.</p><p>One can't give love without having love to give.</p><p>Marnie accused him of having a crush. He couldn't fully refute it at the moment and he sure as hell can't refute it now. She was right, he <em> does </em> have a crush. No, fuck—he's not a child, it's no crush, he actually...</p><p>Towards Raihan, he might... really...</p><p>Oblivious to his owner's in-progress revelation, Stagger yawns and stretches and twists until his front paws are tucked at the ceiling.</p><p>"...Piers? You alright?"</p><p>Shit. How long was he quiet for?</p><p>"Sorry." He shakes his head and presses the heel of his palm against his hairline. "Was just... thinkin' about some stuff. Regardin' him."</p><p>Like how he irrefutably loves the guy.</p><p>He's glad he realized this safe at home, alone, instead of while hanging out with Raihan. That would have been a massive disaster, an emergency to escape from. But what of the next time they see each other? Will anything change?</p><p>"Now I know after makin' me wait a good minute ya ain't gonna keep me in the dark."</p><p>Sibling snark is familiar. Eases him back into talking rational, even if his inner heart is trying to do cartwheels.</p><p>"Been a good while since we've seen each other, that's all..."</p><p>"I thought you two were all close. You wanna see him, don't you?"</p><p>See Raihan. Be close to the object of his newly-realized affections. It'd still just be hanging out with a friend, wouldn't it. Being around the guy makes him happy. And it has been weeks...</p><p>"S'ppose so," he murmurs. "We've been so busy, though. Don't know when we'll both be free, either."</p><p>"Why not make plans then?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You know. <em> Plans?" </em> she emphasizes, like her brother is being a deaf idiot. He kind of was. Making plans, that's such a simple idea, why did it never cross his mind?</p><p>"O-Oh, right! Right, yes, that's a good idea. Makin' plans. Knew all along I could do that."</p><p>Marnie groans. "So do it already! Go on a friend date. Set somethin' up if you like him so much." 'Like' takes on a whole new meaning now. "Honestly, you're dead daft sometimes. You're supposed to be the one givin' <em> me </em> advice."</p><p>Ouch. Alright, that cut a bit deep. He is supposed to be the supportive big brother, who doesn't need to bother his little sibling with any of his problems. Especially self-made ones.</p><p>"But I don't mind the change. Kinda nice to be the one helpin' you out every so often. Makes me feel like I'm takin' care of you too."</p><p>His throat spasms and blocks whatever he was going to say. He swallows around it, transfers the knot of emotion down to his chest instead, where it resides against the other ball of emotion that's just signed a long-term lease.</p><p>"Yeah?" he hoarsely says.</p><p>"Yeah. So don't ever hold stuff back from me. I know you've got more goin' on in yer life than you ever tell me about. I'm old enough to at least listen to what's on your mind, you know."</p><p>It takes him a good long moment to muster something to say that isn't horridly sappy. "Forgot how much you've grown up."</p><p>"Don't forget it again. You might be off doin' your own thing far away from us, but we're still family. It sounds like your new friend is lookin' after you, so he gets approval from me. Not to say you're helpless or anythin', but you deserve a little lookin' after."</p><p>Fuck, she's going to kill him. He's vulnerable right now and Marnie's unknowingly taking advantage of it.</p><p>"He's takin' real good care o' me, don't worry. My only concern is showin' him how much I care too. Reachin' out and makin' plans might be a good way to..."</p><p>An idea from what feels like ages ago pings him. A place to hang out, something to do that'll bring them closer together. He says, a touch breathless, "Actually, I think I know just the thing to ask."</p><p>Marnie giggles. "Don't let me hold you back, then. I'll let you go chase your man. Friend. Man who is your friend."</p><p>"What! No, don't hang up, we've hardly talked! Tell me more about school! Don't think you can escape tellin' me how things are with your girlfriend, either."</p><p>With a good-natured groan, Marnie allows the conversation to be turned towards herself. Piers listens with rapt attention, smiling into the large sleeves of the hoodie the whole time. Honestly, his sister could be narrating a documentary on the history of slowest-drying paints and he'd still hang on every word with love in his heart.</p><p>Eventually, their phone call approaches a natural close. It was a good forty minutes longer than usual, given they had so much to catch up on, but of course he doesn't mind chatting with her for as long as he can. He won't take up her entire afternoon, though. She's a busy girl with a life of her own, and even if she spoke of wanting to hear more of his life, the last thing he wants to be is an over-involved big brother who smothers her and threatens her sense of independence. </p><p>"Love ya, Marnie. Was real nice hearin' from ya again."</p><p>"I'll try to call again next break. You better have updates about your crush by then."</p><p>He doesn't bother refuting it this time, and knows that his lack of immediate protest is taken with sudden excitement. Marnie might be far away but he can sense her mood through the phone. With a dry smile directed at himself, he says his goodbyes.</p><p>"I'm sure I will. Later, Marns, keep up the good work in school, and call me if you're ever in trouble."</p><p>"I know," she groans. "You always say that. Love you too though. Kiss Stagger for me. Mwah."</p><p>He closes his hand in front of the receiver as if catching the kiss, and stretches across his bed to apply it to the top of Stagger's head right as the phone emits a low drone. Call ended.</p><p>Now he's alone, with only his cat and his feelings for company. Without conversation to occupy his thoughts, his train of thought pulls right up to Raihan Central Station.</p><p>First thing's first. Confirm something vital.</p><p>He's pretty sure he's in love with his friend. That, or, he just loves his friend, without the <em> in </em> part. There's a difference between the two, but does it even matter? Being <em> in </em> love is a stepping stone towards settling down and loving them in the stable, lasting sense. It's not bad if he skipped the infatuation stage, right?</p><p>Is it even possible to slide into loving someone that seamlessly without noticing until it's too late?</p><p>If he had a mirror, he could stare the evidence right in the eyes.</p><p>With a dramatic groan, he wiggles downward until he's strewn about his narrow mattress, limbs bent about in angles that would be concerning on anyone less flexible than him, face half-pressed against the edge of the bed.</p><p>Say he does love Raihan. What then. Is he supposed to ask the guy out or something? Casually drop the bomb next time they hang out?</p><p>
  <em> Hey, guess what, mate. Think I fancy your handsome mug. And I know you're at least attracted to me, maybe even interested, so how's about we get dinner sometime, you and me? </em>
</p><p>His insides squirm. Fuck no. He's not that capable. Just the idea of approaching Raihan to ask him on a date has his palms clammy.</p><p>God, what if he's wrong about all this? What if his feelings aren't romantic? It could just be friendship love, what's that called again, philia? Deep friendship, brotherly bonds? He might just love Raihan as a friend and nothing else.</p><p>...But then Piers thinks about kissing him, and his frantic doubts unravel in a flash.</p><p>Piers has always had a strained relationship with the idea of kissing. Sure, he's met lips with horny strangers, kissed his now-exes while thinking they might be the ones he'd spend the rest of his sorry life with, but... the magic and weight of the concept of kissing—mutually, passionately, with true feeling behind it—has never faded. The clash of mouths between desperate one night stands doesn't count as real kissing, in his mind. He's fantasized about Raihan crowding him against the wall and crushing their lips together, but it was in that exact sense: doing it only out of vested sexual interest and nothing more.</p><p>When he thinks about kissing Raihan for real... chin tilted by a gentle hand, kind eyes smiling down at him, bright with affection, and a strong arm around his lower back and the softest lips he's ever felt pressing against his in a genuine, loving kiss...</p><p>He nearly expires on the spot. Heart shriveling and blossoming paradoxically simultaneously, Piers rolls himself into a tight ball within the fluffy confines of the borrowed hoodie. Raihan's scent lends a vividness to the fantasy that he can't shake, and his blush is a space heater, warming him until he's being cooked alive wrapped within this stolen blanket.</p><p>He needs to get a hold of himself. This isn't something he can have. Yes, they're attracted to each other, and he has the miraculous faith that if he were to ask Raihan on a date, the man would faint with excitement, but...</p><p>Actually, what 'buts' are there? What's stopping him from pursuing this now that he knows what he wants? Reservations over Raihan's feelings being driven by idol worship and nothing more? No, they're far beyond that. Raihan very much sees him for who he is, as a person. A loss of interest, perhaps, after there's no thrill of the chase. No, that's not a concern either, Rai's one of the most intensely loving people he's ever met.</p><p>Something inside him withers when the correct answer taps him on the shoulder.</p><p>That's right. How could he forget. It's not about Raihan, it's about himself. Piers has a terrible track record with relationships, romantic or non. It took him ages just to be okay with hugs, for god's sake, how's he supposed to be the loving partner Raihan deserves? Piers doesn't know how to be that for anyone. Intimacy—real intimacy—is terrifying in its unfamiliarity.</p><p>He's used to whirlwind relationships where instability and unpredictability were substitute heart-racers. Adrenaline being a stand-in for true love. Fighting, cursing, petty flips between hot-and-cold, begging for attention and doing anything, anything, to make sure they still wanted him.</p><p>Several years back he cut himself off from chasing smoke. Took time to focus on healing himself instead, and on his music. He needed the break from turbulent relationships that wrung him dry, and figured out pretty fast that all his desperation for attention was pretty pathetic and not remotely healthy.</p><p>He might not have an interest in those dangerous "romances" anymore, but that doesn't mean he's ready for any alternative. He doesn't know how to love someone the right way, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to <em> be </em> loved the right way. Raihan's attention, freely given, and all that gentle affection and generosity, it took forever to be comfortable with it all. Hell, he's still not fully comfortable with it, he still shies away sometimes. And it's all within a platonic context! How the fuck is he supposed to handle it when it's romance? He can't put Raihan through that... the man deserves a partner able to receive all he can give, and Raihan's got so much, <em> so much </em> to give.</p><p>Love just isn't... something Piers is good at yet. Friendship is something he's barely gotten used to, and also happens to be something they both direly need.</p><p>That Leon guy unintentionally tore Raihan to pieces through distance alone and Piers was the one to patch his feelings up, smooth things over. Raihan's a hugger, a hand-holder, no doubt a cuddler, too, all freely given to anyone Raihan considers a friend. Right now, that's just Piers. He's all Raihan has right now, platonic-wise. If he went and confessed and shifted their friendship into a romantic light, it would leave Raihan with no one but Leon, and Leon isn't enough.</p><p>(Piers sends a mental apology to the stranger. He looked the guy up online not long after that teary night, and quickly found the right person based off what he gleaned from Raihan's storytelling. Stunningly gorgeous, with a megawatt smile and a sports record that would make any recruiter drool and trip to offer the highest salaries they can afford to give, Leon looked like a dream of a person. But despite the fame, the status, he could easily picture Raihan slinging an arm around the bloke's broad shoulders, laughing together, taking selfies on Raihan's camera. It put a weird pang in his chest at the time, because he gave in to the thief of all joy: comparison. He's nothing like Leon. From what he knows, they're polar opposite, yet Raihan adores him all the same.)</p><p>What Raihan needs right now isn't a partner who's incapable of loving him properly. He needs a friend who can be there for him, who has his back. Who only thinks about what's best for him.</p><p>The fact remains that they are good friends. Piers won't take what he has for granted. Romance or no romance, he's still happy to be close, and happy to be a part of the life of someone so wonderful who deserves far far more than what Piers can give.</p><p>The fact also remains that... whether or not Raihan deserves more (and he does), he still finds some happiness with Piers. Piers still adds to his life.</p><p>Piers' chest clenches and he pulls the hoodie closer around his balled-up body.</p><p>"I do the worst things to myself," he groans, voice muffled by fleece. "Th'fuck'm I g'nna do..."</p><p>Hang out with Rai as normal, at the very least. Compromising their friendship is not an option. No matter how much Piers wants to tie himself into a love-anguished knot and cram himself into a hole, forever, he's got to do right by his friend.</p><p>Right now, that means approaching the boundary of his comfort zone and forcing himself over the line—something he's only motivated to do whenever Raihan is involved—via making a bloody social call. His worst enemy.</p><p>
If it's to Raihan, who knows, maybe it'll be easy.
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>hey</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Hey!! ❤️</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
That little heart—normally so innocuous, as Raihan sends them all the time now—stares him down like a watchtower spotlight. Just a heart, a silly emoji, no big deal... Raihan doesn't mean anything by it, he's just showing friendly affection. Affection and appreciation.
</p>
<p>
Affpreciation.
</p>
<p>
(Something synonymous with love?)
</p>
<p>
<em>No, cut that out. Stop projecting.</em>
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>you free next weekend..?</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>I can be!!! Things lightened up for me!</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Why what's up? You wanna work on our collab more?</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>no</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>was wonderin instead if we could maybe</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>.....????</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>...You alright?</span>
</p>
</div><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Haha take your time</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>I admit I'm on the edge of my seat though</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
He strangles himself into a groan and strains the sound all throughout typing this message. He's never done this shit before and it's embarrassing, and he's doubly embarrassed because he shouldn't feel ashamed about something as simple as inviting a friend to hang out to begin with. It'll make Raihan happy, he repeats to himself with every laborious keypress. Six letters. Each one feels like its own cinder block chained to his legs, and hitting send is like shoving them all off the dock.
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>arcade</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>Huh</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
What the fuck does 'huh' mean? Does he need to hold Raihan's hand through understanding this? Piers gripes into his pillow and bites it as he stabs his painted thumbnails to the glass.
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>u wanted to show me something</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>right?</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>and i owe you a reward from that one time you napped so</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>if ur free next week id be down to cash that in</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>only if thats something u wanna do. no big deal if you're busy or wanna do sth else</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
He knows Raihan saw the message, the read receipt went off instantly. But he's not saying anything. Why. Why. This was a terrible idea. He's not good at this initiative stuff unless it's for an emergency, like chasing an off-kilter friend and stopping them from hiding when they need a shoulder to cry on more than anything else.
</p>
<p>
Two agonizing minutes later, Raihan starts typing. And typing. And typing. God, this sucks. Pretending to be all cool and collected when he isn't. His eggshell confidence is convincing enough when he has the mentality to maintain it, counterfeit Faberge whose gilt covers the cracks, but it's real hard to maintain shit when things are happening over text and there's no pressure to not come half undone in the privacy of his own bedroom.
</p>
<p>
Oh, thank fuck, an answer.
</p>
<p>
...Make that an essay.
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>I'm very free next weekend! I'd love to take you to the arcade! I know a really good place downtown, I haven't been there in forever, so it'll be great to go again with you. Love showing friends new places. And since it's really easy to work up an appetite doing all that stuff I was wondering if maybe we might wanna get lunch before or dinner after, if that's okay? I'll pay. I mean I'm not trying to give you a financial incentitve to get food with me, I'm just saying that I wanna be nice and cover for you because I like doing that for no reason other than wanting to! What do you say? First to the arcade thing and second to the lunch or dinner thing? Not to say you need to pick one or the other on the second thing, we can do both lunch and dinner if you want!</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
About eighty percent of the stress bunching his shoulders evaporates away. Seriously, this dork... Piers finds himself smiling into the pillow as he reads and rereads that message. Raihan's nervous about asking him out to lunch. Or dinner. Or lunch and dinner both. That kind of puts this outing into date territory, doesn't it?
</p>
<p>
No, Raihan made it a point to use the word 'friends' in his little essay. He's purposefully distanced the concept of going out to eat from any potential romantic intentions, and it's honestly a huge relief.
<span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>yes to the arcade</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>and yeah, lunch sounds great</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>but if you take us to another posh cafe like last time im not gonna be too relaxed. aint that fond of fancy stuff</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>That's totally fine! I know some really great not-fancy places too! You alright getting your hands a little messy?</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>you take one look at my aesthetic and tell me i'm fussed abt bein around shit that aint pristine</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="generic_reply">
<span class="hide">
<b>
Raihan: </b>
</span>I'm taking that as a challenge &gt;&gt;:) want some barbeque to put some meat on those bones?</span>
<br/><br/>
<span class="preply">
<span class="hide">
<b>Piers: </b>
</span>oi, if anything sticks i'll thank you</span>
</p>
</div><p>
<span class="hide"><br/></span>
And that's that. He successfully made plans to see his best friend. Who he's certain he's in love with. Only six days to go until it happens, which means he's got six days to prepare his sorry self so that his crush isn't ragingly obvious when the time comes.
</p>
<p>Lips still half-smiling from the closed conversation, Piers sets his phone aside and gazes forlornly at his still-napping pet. If only the life of humanity were as simple as that of a cat's.</p><p>"Wish me luck, would you?"</p><p>Stagger sneezes. Good enough for him.</p><p>- - -</p><p>He puts more effort into looking good than usual. But not too much effort. He doesn't want to look like a tryhard when all they're doing is getting lunch and going to an arcade, which most people see as a place for kids and teenagers. Just a fresh coat of polish that he resolves not to nibble, and a touch more attention given to his eye makeup, and one of his favorite jackets for luck.</p><p>(Luck at what? Don't ask him.)</p><p>He wonders, right before leaving the house, what Raihan's reaction would be if he wore the stolen hoodie instead. Oversized jackets can be fashionable if contrasted with something tight on the legs, and all Piers wears on his legs are things that are tight, so it could easily be incorporated into an outfit that does well against the nippy day, but he easily decides that he'd rather not face what the fallout would be. Either Raihan finds it cute (and either compliments him or teases him), or he barely gives a reaction, or he proclaims that he wants it back, and every branching option is not something Piers has the mental fortitude to face. So he leaves it behind, folded on his bed, and locks the door resolutely behind him.</p><p>After their initial greeting—traded smiles, traded once-overs, barely-contained happiness from them both at seeing each other again after so long—Piers is hardly able to meet Raihan's eyes throughout the entirety of their not-date. Every time he steals a glance it's caught red-handed, because Raihan's barely taking his eyes off him, which is both flattering, and makes Piers want to tear his hair out. <em> Give me a break! </em> he wants to cry, <em> At least let me ease into it. </em> But nope, full-on assault. Six days wasn't nearly enough time, all it took was one smile to shatter his preparations to dust.</p><p>What nearly ends him is when—and this is his own fault, really—he had some sauce on his cheek that's casually pointed out, swiped at with a soft finger, and licked off said finger with a cheeky smile. It's devastating. Piers wants to whimper (but doesn't) as well as cuss Raihan out with an expression along the lines of "are you fucking kidding me with this" (but doesn't).</p><p>Even when Raihan nearly drops a rib into his lap and fumbles to catch it with a reactionary squawk of distress, it's charming and makes his heart skip. He couldn't even focus on how good the food was, attention fully taken by what was across the table rather than what was on it.</p><p>Raihan lays his card down onto the tin bill-holder with natural grace and assertiveness. Piers pinches himself under the table. It's just not fair. How is anyone supposed to defend themselves against this guy? Fuck, there's probably scores of people out there who have at least celebrity crushes on him. People with solid careers and flourishing social lives and aren't wannabe rockstars who happen to be good at comforting people when they need a shoulder.</p><p>"Hey, you alright?"</p><p>He snaps out of his blank staring at the bill. Raihan's smiling, but concern shines through the kindness, and Piers' soft squishy insides quiver enough that he's ashamed about it.</p><p>"Sorry. Yeah. Was just thinkin' about stuff."</p><p>"Stuff like what?" Raihan sets his elbows on the table and leans in, and is that... worry? Shit.</p><p>"Nothin' bad! I was just thinkin' that..." Honesty. Honesty. Easy now, nothing to fear. "That it's real nice." Clarify. "To be out." Clarify! "With you," he finally finishes.</p><p>That was harder than it should have been. "'M glad you invited me to lunch."</p><p>Rai lights up. Something nudges his shoe under the table, and before he can consider self-control, he nudges right back.</p><p>"Anytime! I'm happy you said yes, it's been ages since we hung out."</p><p>He snorts and relaxes, falling back into comfortable conversation with ease. "Got to keep you on your toes by sayin' yes sometimes, don't I? Ten percent random chance."</p><p>"Oh, if there's probabilities involved, then all I've got to do to cinch more dates is ask you hundreds of times!" Raihan digs his phone out from where it was stowed away for the entirety of lunch. "One moment while I blow your phone with invitations..."</p><p>Dates. He meant that in a friend way, right? Colloquial usage?</p><p>"Now hang on!" Piers reaches across the table to loosely swat at Raihan's arm. "I'm no bleedin' slot machine, I'll say yes whenever I want to see you."</p><p>A killer puppy face is aimed his way and he reflexively feels bad. "And that's only ten percent of the time?"</p><p>"No!" His face heats and he knows it's visible. It's always visible. "Quit tryin' to corner me into sayin' sappy shite, dammit, you know I like hangin' out with you."</p><p>"But sappy's so nice to hear." Raihan slides his phone away, rests his chin on a hammock of interlaced fingers, and smiles, the picture of active contentment. "I love hanging out with you too, Piers."</p><p>Piers said like. Raihan said love. That's got to mean somethi—</p><p>
  <em> Oh my god will you quit reading into things! </em>
</p><p>"Why don't we head to the arcade as soon as we get the receipt? You're going to have a blast, I know it!"</p><p>"You're just eager to show your legs off," he mumbles into his glass.</p><p>"These bad boys?" What can only be Raihan's leg slides up the side of his calf. "Baby, I hardly have to try for that."</p><p>Piers almost chokes on his water. They're in public and Raihan's calling him that! His glare bounces right off an innocently smiling face, and almost on cue, the waiter returns with Raihan's card and there's nothing tying them to this table any longer.</p><p>- - -</p><p>Piers likes dark places, and the atmosphere of the arcade Raihan eagerly pulled him into is no exception. As soon as the door closes behind them they're shut into another world, one with as much colorful neon and charged energy as a nightclub.</p><p>The carpet is the tackiest thing Piers has ever seen, dusty black and sprinkled with neon wiggles and geometric shapes that seem to glow all on their own. Pinball pings are an unmistakable sound, and their familiarity provides an anchor in the wild soundscape that his ears can return to. Jostled machines, fake laser guns obliterating zombies and aliens, cheers of triumph and groans of despair and hisses of <em> so close! </em> The shink and clatter of quarters into greedy coin slots. Digitized voices proclaiming praise, new high scores, game overs. It's a bloody jungle in here and they're about to take part in it.</p><p>Dance Dance Revolution is set up in all its classic glory near the middle of the crowded floorplan. Nobody's on it right now, and Raihan zooms right up to claim a spot, leaving Piers to stand behind and watch.</p><p>"Okay, since this is your first time here, how about I show you how it's done first?" Rai's so excited. It's adorable. </p><p>"Pretty sure everyone knows how you're supposed to play this thing, but sure." He gestures. "Go right ahead. Blow me away."</p><p>"Stand back and be amazed!" Raihan digs into his pocket for a handful of quarters he must have prepared before coming, and slots them into the machine one by one. His hands hover over the buttons for song selection, and Piers glances at the screen. The UI is unfamiliar, but that looks like a hard song based on those stats. "Disclaimer, it has been a while since I've played, so if I don't blow you away, that's my excuse."</p><p>"Sounds to me like you've got no faith in yourself. I fully expect to be impressed." He shuffles up and leans against the horizontal bar behind the Player Two half of the machine. "Put your money where your mouth is and make my knees weak."</p><p>Something in Raihan's profile changes. His mouth tilts into a smirk and the blacklights catch a flash of fang as he presses the right arrow a few more times, with heavy deliberation. The whole screen contents fly to the left and become distinctly purple.</p><p>'Challenge' mode?</p><p>"Alright, baby, you asked for it. Hold onto those knees."</p><p>Again with the nickname! He doesn't think anyone heard, too distracted by their own virtual conquests, but still, brazen bastard...</p><p>"They ain't goin' anywhere," is all he manages to say, before curiosity holds his tongue.</p><p>As he feels he should, he stands back as the song starts up. Raihan's foot taps on the metal platform, already knowing the tempo. The arrows ascend towards their shells at the top of the screen and with perfect timing they're slammed. Piers jolts at the sound and takes another step back. It's a crazy song and Rai's legs are a coordinated flurry, hitting every beat and churning up a thunderous percussive accompaniment to the music. The strings on Raihan's hoodie dance and tangle and the screen flashes <em> perfect! </em> after <em> perfect! </em> while the combo count racks higher and higher. There's a few misses, but Raihan doesn't break stride once, dismissing the losses in favor of forging ahead as if they never happened.</p><p>He's good. Really good. Piers can hardly blink through the display of skill, and before he knows it, the song is over. Fastest two minutes of his life.</p><p>"How're those knees?"</p><p>Piers snaps out of staring. Raihan's bent at the waist, leaning on the horizontal bar behind the stage, and even in the low light it's easy to tell that he's hardly broken a sweat. His silhouette is backlit by the bright game screen, and while Piers has no reference whatsoever for what counts as a good or great score, he can tell that Rai deserves a spot on the leaderboard once his rounds are finished. For now, he won't grant the pleasure of being visibly impressed just yet, because the last thing Raihan needs is an ego stroking after only one song.</p><p>"They ain't broken down yet." He nods towards the screen. "Ya got two more songs, it's sayin'. Don't waste your turns."</p><p>Raihan laughs and straightens up. "I see, I see." The zipper on his hoodie drags down and two long, lean-muscled arms extract from the sleeves, ball up the clothes, and toss it straight at Piers' chest. He barely catches it before it falls. "Keep that one safe for me too, okay?"</p><p>Piers bundles the hoodie to his chest and glares at Raihan's back while he picks out another song. It's tempting to steal this one too, out of spite for having his first theft acknowledged, but he hardly gets the chance to plot, because Raihan's geared up to go again and like hell is he missing a single second. This time, he makes sure to pay better attention to Raihan's movements. Piers is pretty sure it's not remotely necessary to involve the upper body beyond counterbalancing, when all that matters is hitting your feet onto the arrows in time, but he can't deny that it adds points for style.</p><p>Just this once, Piers wishes the dark weren't so dark, and that all the lights were all on so he could watch Raihan move without missing a single detail, from the stretch of shirt across broad shoulders to the newly-bared arms to every inch of chiseled leg hidden in those slim pants. Fluidity and flair grace every one of his movements, which, given how technically demanding this game is, is really bloody impressive. Raihan isn't aggressively attacking the song, he's enveloping himself within it. Like he's really dancing. They should go to a nightclub together one day, get buzzed, dance, maybe end up against a wall...</p><p>Son of a bitch, he ruined his nail polish.</p><p>Before long, he gives up on observing technique and shifts back to appreciating how his best friend moves his body. The sight of someone truly, wholly in the zone and feeling themselves is a black hole for attention. Mesmerizing, and he's not the only one who can't look away. If people's gazes were laser dots, you'd think Raihan stumbled into a spy movie vault trap and just triggered every alarm in the facility.</p><p>It's silly, but Piers feels rather proud that people are watching his friend show off. As precarious as Raihan's relationship with fame seems to be, he really is a man worthy of the spotlight, and attracts attention just by being himself.</p><p>And when he's having fun?</p><p>It's impossible to focus on anything else in the world.</p><p>Fondness blooms through his body and adds a different kind of warmth to glow alongside the embers of easy attraction, and Piers hugs the hoodie closer to his chest.</p><p>"Woo, hell yeah! Crown me!" Raihan crows and punches in the first three letters of his name to make his mark on the leaderboard.</p><p>"If I had one handy I'd coronate you on the spot, O Great One." He shuffles up and passes the hoodie back, not bothering to suppress his admiration. Raihan earned it. "Gotta hand it to you, that was amazing. Was worth comin' out just for that alone."</p><p>Raihan preens like a peacock, running a hand down the back of his head (that bicep swells to something grope-worthy) with a proud smirk that Piers wishes was more infuriating than attractive. "Told you I was good. In lieu of a crown, call me Dance Master Raihan from now on and I'll be satisfied."</p><p>"Like you ain't satisfied enough, look at you." He playfully pushes at Raihan's chest and fails to pop the bubble of smugness. "Swear your head's gonna bust right through the roof of this arcade if it gets any bigger."</p><p>"Good thing I've got you to keep me humble then?"</p><p>"Shove off. You done jerkin' yourself off or—" A pair of kids dash by and Piers shuts his trap. He almost forgot they were in a family friendly environment. In front of him, Raihan's barely holding back a laugh. Heat rises to his face and he steps close to mutter. "Or are you gonna play another round."</p><p>"Hmmm... I'll play. Only if you join me up here, though."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>It must be the low light playing tricks, but Raihan's eyes seem to hold something intense. "You and me. A two-player round."</p><p>For no discernable reason a shiver runs up his spine. Playing together... competing? With all these people who might watch, just like they watched when Raihan played solo? Piers glances around and catches no one staring, but before he can check over his other shoulder, a large hand snags his attention. Palm up. Held out. <em> Take me, </em> it says.</p><p>Raihan's eyes send a similar silent message: <em> Forget about anyone who isn't me. </em></p><p>Right... no one else should matter. This day is about them. They haven't seen each other in weeks and who knows when the next time will be. Piers can't afford to let other people get in the way of enjoying himself with Raihan.</p><p>Legs stiff, he takes the hand and steps onto the shiny metal platform. The way it's elevated makes it feel like a tiny stage, no doubt what the designers intended.</p><p>"Alright, let's pick a good starter song to help you get used to the game. I know a few I think you'll love! Let's see here..."</p><p>Shit, they're still holding hands. Piers whips his back to himself and rubs his arm while Raihan navigates the tracklist using the little buttons below the screen. Did anyone see them doing that? What if people think they're a couple or something?</p><p>Not that there'd be anything wrong with that. There's worse people to be mistaken as the boyfriend to. He's just trying to be considerate towards Raihan, that's all. Just because Piers would selfishly have no problem with them being mistaken as an item doesn't mean Rai would be fine with it.</p><p>"Alright, all set up! I'm ready to go when you are, and don't worry." Another handsome wink, one that stokes the ever-familiar fire of spite-driven motivation. "I'll go easy on you."</p><p>Piers clicks his tongue and sidesteps into position. "Don't forget I'm a rhythm game natural."</p><p>Rhythm games are a specialty of his, which is to say, they're the only type of video game he ever plays. Who cares that they're all on his phone and that he's never done something so in-person and physical, the basic principle's the same, isn't it? Get in the groove. Look ahead and prime yourself for where the beats fall so you're already in place when it's time to hit. It's just... legs instead of thumbs.</p><p>"A natural, eh? Talent alone can't beat years of experience."</p><p>"It sure as hell can catch up faster than anything else."</p><p>"I'd like to see you try!"</p><p>Piers stomps to signify that he's ready. He has every intention of getting back at the smug bastard for being a dreamboat at everything he does and turning him into a hopeless, lovestruck fool.</p><p>
    - - -
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
    </p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>I hope you had fun today!</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>course i had fun, werent you there to see it live?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Yeah! But I just wanted to make sure! You seemed kind of nervous at the end since we drew such a crowd by the time we were done</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>(also i needed an opener to text you again since it's only been a few hours since we said goodbye :P )</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>(you have the privilege of bein able to bother me anytime you want, you know that right?)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>(still! I'm not about to just be like 'wyd' or 'hey' I can do wayyy better than that)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>(ok i can respect that)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>( :D thank youuu)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>(yea np)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>(wait why are you thanking me for something like that)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>(also why are we still whispering)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>(because i appreciate it! and what's wrong with whispering? ;] it's nice and secretive. like we're having a sleepover or something)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>Anyways</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>(no fun!)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Okay, okay, back to our outside voices</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>I did have fun, for the record. one day i'll kick your arse at that game</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Meaning you'll go with me again sometime?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>sure is what it sounds like innit</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>That's great!!! Man today keeps getting better and better!</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>That reminds me, there actually is something specific I've been wanting to ask you about. It's been on my mind for a while now and I figured, what better time to ask than the present?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>...what is it</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>So, this might be completely out of nowhere, but</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>What should we call us</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>?</span>
    </p>
</div><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Haha nbd if it's not something you wanna think about rn</span>
    </p>
</div><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>...what do you think though?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>No rush haha</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>i</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>sorry?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>The name we publish our song under, what should we call ourselves?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>We can call ourselves something special, like a joint name!</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>oh! right. of course</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>no idea... guess i thought you were gonna release the song under your own name and say they featured me or something</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>I mean, if that's what you're comfortable with, we can do that, but it wouldn't feel 100% right to me. You're way more than a feature, you practically wrote the whole song, minus the tweaks we've made on the fly while working on it! I want something more fitting, like, you know</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>A name for us together</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>As a pair</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>A musical pair!</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>right...</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>im not good at puttin names to things that arent songs</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>guess we should come up with a name for that too, though, we cant keep callin it 'our song' forever</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Why not? That's what it is to us &lt;3</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>But I getcha, we need to call it something to release under</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Shit, we need to plan how to do that too. All this time I've been assuming I'd release it on my mainstream account but if you want a quieter drop I can upload it to one of my smaller pseudonyms! Goombox or DUrADUrA? But I admit I kind of maybe might reaaaaally want to show off our work to as many people as possible because I'm really proud of what we're makingggg, sooooo...</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>ugh logistics... much as I'd love to leave it all to you i could probably learn somethin valuable from this, so.....</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Brainstorming session at my place?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>...what, like, now?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>Why not?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>It's 11pm</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>I understand if you're tired after today! I won't have another free weekend for another couple weeks tho... 🥺 I want to hang out a little more... get my fix of spending time with you...</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>....</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>we hung out for hours today, that wasn't enough?</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>bae</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>my parents arent home 🥺</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>1. oh my god fine i'll come over 
    <br/>2. i never wanna see you use that face again</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="preply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>Piers: </b>
    </span>( 3. i do wanna see you too. be there soon)</span>
    <br/><br/>
    <span class="generic_reply">
    <span class="hide">
    <b>
    Raihan: </b>
    </span>( 🥰🥰🥰 )</span>
    </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    - - -
    
</p>
<p>"Piers, mate," Raihan whines. "You're brutal. I can't believe we couldn't agree on anything."</p><p>"I can," Piers says. "All your ideas are too random. They hardly mean anything other than sounding cool or makin' absolutely zero sense."</p><p>"Catchiness is important! And a bit of whimsy adds intrigue!"</p><p>"I know that! I try to make catchy titles too, you know. You should know, given how much you've listened to my shite."</p><p>Raihan perks his head up from his dramatic slump across the whole of the two-person dining room table. "I do know. I've got every song and album title memorized and can list them all in order."</p><p>Extremely flattering, but he doesn't let the warm fuzzies filling up his chest to show on his face. "You want a cookie for that, or what."</p><p>"If you'll give me one." Raihan's lower lip protrudes and makes a fair case. "Let's give it another round. I really think we can come up with a... ah..."</p><p>Raihan <em> aaah</em>'s into a deep yawn, and Piers is treated to a first-rate presentation of all those pearly chompers. Those incisors really are something.</p><p>
  <em> Wonder how they'd feel on your skin. </em>
</p><p>He wraps his hand around his choker and casts his gaze anywhere that isn't Raihan. This setting is new to him, so there's plenty to look at.</p><p>Raihan's kitchen is clean, bright, and organized. Suspiciously organized. The labels on the spice rack all face perfectly outward, and there aren't any that look near-empty. Doesn't look like this room gets much use... Come to think of it, Rai's only ordered take-out in the times they've eaten here, and judging by their outings it'd make sense if he went out to eat multiple times a week, minimum. Does the man not ever cook? No, there's some dishes in the sink. None of it's cookware, though... Could be from transferring takeaway onto proper plates and bowls instead of eating out of whatever styrofoam or plastic containers it came in.</p><p>Typical money-having bachelor.</p><p>Sometime Piers will have to whip up something homemade for him. Raihan gravitates towards food with strong, vibrant flavors, that's something he can work with just fine. Narrows down the recipe options.</p><p>
  <em> You're thinking about cooking for him, you might as well ask him to marry you at this point, christ. Pull yourself together. You're not ready. </em>
</p><p>"Euuurgh, fuck, what time is it..."</p><p>"It's... shit, way past your bedtime." Hypocritical of him to scold Raihan's sleep schedule only to personally fuck with it weeks later. "You need to sleep. Come on, up."</p><p>Raihan, succumbing to brattiness, drapes himself over the table like he intends to be classically painted in that position. "Don't wanna..."</p><p>"Don't be such a baby. I'm not haulin' your arse up those stairs again, once was harrowing enough."</p><p>Groaning, Raihan gathers his arms and folds them beneath his head, and mumbles into them with a sneaky glance upward. "Maybe I'd be motivated to go to bed if you stayed over. ...Heh, kidding, kid—"</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Raihan double-takes his way into sitting upright, eyes wide and flickering with something Piers pretends to be unable to read. "What? You heard me right, right?"</p><p>He absolutely heard Rai right. Spending the night, what's the worst that could happen? And on the contrary, what's the best that could happen? Worst case scenario, he gets to crash someplace comfortable, under the roof of someone he trusts, which is far better than most of the other places he's had to spend the night.</p><p>Best case scenario...</p><p>His heart dares to flutter.</p><p>
  <em> Share the bed. Cuddle up. Pillow talk. </em>
</p><p>He shunts those fantasies off their track and shrugs a so-what shrug, nice and casual like. "Better than headin' home super late. It's Saturday anyways." Anxiety pushes him to weaken his claims. "But if you really were jokin' then I can go home, don't wanna impose or—"</p><p>"No no!" Raihan staggers to his feet. "I'd love to have you over! Sleepovers with friends, fun! Haven't had one of those in ages!"</p><p>He seriously used the word 'sleepover.' This precious dork.</p><p>Piers can't hide his soft expression as he trails after Raihan up the narrow stairs, the man's excitement evident in the way he painstakingly ascends one steady step at a time instead of racing up them in threes. Gives Piers a moment to think on something. That something being, holy shit, he's seriously about to spend the night. He said yes mostly on a whim, to indulge Raihan's joke (was it a joke?) and be playful, but of course it resulted in this.</p><p>This is dangerous for him, but he's on a day-long winning streak. He initiated plans to hang out. He got to see Raihan's DDR skills firsthand. He busted his arse trying to keep up and did a decent job, had a fun time competing, and even managed to play a few rounds with a small crowd's eyes pricking into his back. Good practice for if he ever stands on a real stage. This final trial will be nothing. Sleeping at the house of the man he's got serious feelings for, no big deal.</p><p>Not a big deal at all.</p><p>"Think I could borrow somethin' to wear? I'd rather not sleep in whatever I'll wear outta the house tomorrow mornin'."</p><p>Raihan makes an enthusiastic beeline to his dresser. Oh, stores his folded shirts vertically, does he? Interesting. Piers hovers to the side as Raihan rifles through the shirts as if they were folders in a filing cabinet and tugs something black out with a dramatic flap.</p><p>"Wait, <em> you </em> listen to that band?" He snatches the faded t-shirt and inspects the gnarly graphic on the front.</p><p>"Don't act surprised, I listen to your stuff, after all. Of course I'm into plenty of rock bands. Saw those people live about five years back!" Raihan proudly proclaims.</p><p>"And here's the souvenir..."</p><p>Those tickets are so fucking expensive, how did he—oh, right. Rai's got the resources to attend huge rock concerts. He shakes his head and holds the shirt between his legs for a moment to grab the bottom of his shirt.</p><p>"They're still tourin', aren't they?" He lifts his top up, watching his friend from the corner of his eye. The moment his waist becomes visible, Raihan jolts and spins around, spine straight as a skewer. Modesty ain't the reason, he's positive. Piers smirks and makes sure his shirt falls to the floor with an audible fwump. Raihan twitches at the sound. Cute.</p><p>"Y-Yeah! Sure are! You know, if you're interested, maybe we could go to a concert together. Make a trip of it."</p><p>He hums and pulls the borrowed shirt over his head. Predictably, it's gigantic on him. Long enough to cover his underwear once he peels his jeans off, which he does right away, because like hell is he sleeping in skintight denim. "First a sleepover, and now vacation plans? You sure move fast."</p><p>"Hah, what can I say, I'm..." Raihan edges a peek over his shoulder. The peek turns into an ogle, and then a full once-over from head to toe. His jaw falls slack around words most likely forgotten, and Piers takes great pleasure in playing coy.</p><p>He tugs on the bottom hem of the shirt like he's trying to display the design on it. "Bit big on me, wouldn't you say?"</p><p>"Yeah... Looks really good on you, though." Raihan bites his lip with his protruding fang and tears his eyes away, scratching his cheek. "For me, I tend to sleep in just my underwear. That alright with you?"</p><p>Now it's his turn to trip up. Raihan, shirtless, legs bare. Warm skin wherever Piers might touch. The fact that Raihan asked if he'd be comfortable with his state of dress directly implies that they'll be in a position where it matters. Meaning... they really are going to share the bed. Piers busies himself with unlatching his choker, and sets it on Raihan's dresser with a clink.</p><p>"I don't mind at all."</p><p>Thrill masterfully hidden via turning his back, Piers strolls to the foot of the large bed. He's laid on it before, sat on it, pulled its blankets around and put someone to sleep in it, but this time he'll actually be using it for its intended purpose.</p><p>He crawls onto the vast expanse and wastes no time in burrowing under the dense covers. Damn, these are nice blankets. Bit cold, but that'll be fixed in no time.</p><p>"You comin' or what?"</p><p>Raihan snaps out of whatever daze he was in and paces to get the lights. Under the safety of the blanket, Piers pouts. He won't get to see Raihan strip. Or his bare body in the light. There is a thrill to be had in lack of sight, though. Allows the imagination to flourish—</p><p>
  <em> What the hell are you thinking? Look at you, you wallowed this morning about being not ready for a relationship and now you're drooling over the opportunity to be in the same bed with him? What a fuckin' mess you are. Pick a side and stay on it. </em>
</p><p>The mattress dips under the weight of a large body clambering across it. Raihan, no doubt as naked as promised under whatever underwear he's got on, settles on one side of the bed, decidedly not within hand's reach, which is a blessing as much as it frustrates the needy parts of Piers' brain.</p><p>Great, not only is he freshly stressed about his own hypocrisy, now the air is awkward. What was he thinking, that they might cuddle tonight? Of course that's too far. Just because Raihan hugs him and is willing to share a bed with him doesn't mean he wants to cuddle. Idiot.</p><p>"Hey..." Raihan's voice is quiet, but clear, and drags Piers out of his self-destructive mulling.</p><p>"What," he replies, voice rough.</p><p>The blankets shift somewhere around Raihan's legs. "Did you know you're the first person to actually sleep in this bed with me?"</p><p>Piers blinks at the dim stripes of orange cast onto the ceiling from the lamps below on the street. That statement makes no sense. Rai's made it clear before that he's far from celibate.</p><p>"I always take people to the guest bedroom. Too much expensive shit in here to let strangers stay the night."</p><p>And just like that, some of his anxiety dissipates.</p><p>"And I'm no stranger, am I."</p><p>"No," Rai softly says. "You're not."</p><p>Minutes pass. Piers isn't remotely tired; he's the poster child for night owls. What's interesting is that Raihan, legitimately up far later than normal, hasn't passed out either. It's obvious in his breathing that he's still awake.</p><p>They called this a sleepover in jest, but at this point, anything's better than lying awake in silence. Might as well make this a proper sleepover and gossip. It's easy enough to pluck a random topic from the myriad of worries always stewing in the back of his mind. Their unnamed song being one.</p><p>"Hey Rai... once we finish and name and release our song..."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>He rolls onto his side and observes what he can of Raihan's profile. Within these few inches closer, he can feel the edge of body heat radiating beneath the covers. His hand rests on the bed near his chest, and, eager for warmth, reaches a scant amount forward. It steals whatever heat it can, leaving the blankets cool once more. Not enough to make a dent in his cold, needy hands...</p><p>"D'you think that people will like what we made together? It's so different from what you usually do. Won't your fans be upset that it's not your usual?"</p><p>"Hm... some of them, for sure." A chuckle. "But I don't care. There'll always be people who only care about a subset of what you're capable of. For every fan who bitches and moans about me experimenting, there's another fan who's ecstatic to hear me show them something new."</p><p>"And they all tell you this? Straight up?"</p><p>"They're pretty vocal, yeah. They can get really intense about their music preferences. Kind of a hard tightrope to walk sometimes, taking their feedback into account while not losing sight of my own creative vision. You never want to make <em> everyone </em> happy. Else you'll lose sight of what you love most about your own work."</p><p>"Sounds like you're speakin' from experience."</p><p>"Sure am," Rai sighs. "I wasn't always able to stick to my guns. Suffered a lot for it, but learned a lot too." The silky fabric of the pillow swishes when the head resting on it turns, and Raihan's voice becomes that much clearer. "If I can spare you that hardship, I will. Always better to learn from other's mistakes than your own, when you can."</p><p>Piers bites back a comment about how ironic it is that such wisdom is coming from someone who asked for a cookie and whined about going to bed not half an hour ago. It really is sound advice, and he should be glad to take it. Especially when it comes from such a caring source.</p><p>"One thing you definitely want to be spared from is crazy fans. Sheesh, people do crazy things for their idols. One time someone mailed me a pair of panties. Used. Had a little note with a lipstick mark and a phone number that I did not text."</p><p>"Seriously?" He's not sure if he should laugh or wince. "Wild... Guess havin' a big fanbase ain't all sunshine and roses. Don't think I'd ever wanna deal with someone <em> that </em> obsessed over me."</p><p>"Yeah, hah, wouldn't wish that on anyone..." Raihan trails off. Piers nearly asks what's wrong when Raihan rallies again. "But hey, one thing that's nice about it is you can make their day just with eye contact. You can make their whole year if you pay a little direct attention to them."</p><p>Again, the last thing Raihan can be called is subtle. Piers pushes his cold hand further away from himself, seeking more heat and stealing it right away. Still not enough to get warm. "How many years have I made for you by doin' all this?"</p><p>A warm chuckle, low and personal, makes him shiver. "I think I can say with confidence that you've made my whole life."</p><p><em> ...Fuck. </em> He felt that in his whole body. The sentiment swept right over him and all of a sudden he's not cold anymore. Piers draws his hand back to his chest and curls his legs up too.</p><p>"You've... really made an impact on me too." He licks his lips and adjusts his pillow, centering it beneath his head. "Ain't never had this much fun makin' music before in me life. Never met a fan in person before you, either. Or had such a good friend. You're a great guy, and to be honest with you, it's a wonder you're still single when you're so amazing."</p><p>"Getting sappy on me? Geez, come on..." Raihan's voice is colored with embarrassment. "I'll tell you a secret since you buttered me up. Well, it's not really a secret, but it's not really something I like admitting." He blows out a sigh. "I've never actually been in a serious, committed relationship before."</p><p>It takes a moment for him to react. "No way, mate."</p><p>"Yes way!" Raihan groans. "That makes me seem less cool, doesn't it. I just... you know, never had the time..."</p><p>Great, now Piers feels guilty for falling for a guy with hardly any romantic experience. Good thing Piers resolved to not do anything about his own messy feelings. The last thing Raihan needs is someone dumping all that into his lap. They're both inexperienced; it would be a disaster.</p><p>"Married to your job I take it?"</p><p>"You could say that. I had a few short relationships in college, but they were never serious. After graduating, my career took full focus. I gave it my everything and I'm still giving it my everything." A beat. "Not to say that I wouldn't have time for one, if I happened to get with the person I happened to like at the time! I'd totally give my all to a relationship. Not to be too full of myself, but I'd really be a good committed boyfriend. I'd be totally serious about whoever I... I'm in love with."</p><p>The hasty enthusiasm tugs a smile out of him. Makes sense that Raihan would give his absolute all even for something whose end goal is sappy domesticity. Everything he does, he does with maximum verve.</p><p>"I think you'd be a good boyfriend, too," he quietly says. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."</p><p>Hard to say the same about himself. Piers can't think of any reason a person would be considered lucky to be with him. He's got decent looks for those with eccentric tastes, and has musical talent and a nice voice, but other than that? No money, no charisma, and he's godawful at displaying outward love. He's an introverted shut-in when left alone whose social circle, before meeting Raihan, consisted of his sister and his cat. Not exactly prime date material.</p><p>The mattress moves as Raihan rolls onto his side. With the light coming through the window blinds as the only illumination, it's impossible to make out his expression, but Piers can tell how close he is. One half-reach away from touching.</p><p>"I think anyone would be lucky to have you, too."</p><p>Piers' throat tightens. He doesn't deserve praise like that, not by a mile. "Tell that to my exes," he deflects.</p><p>Raihan scoots closer. "Did they not appreciate you?"</p><p>Sour memories come knocking, but Piers holds his tongue. Badmouthing exes isn't a good look for anyone even if they were objectively toxic people.</p><p>"Let's just say I was a lot more desperate in the past than I am now... was way less stable. I definitely made mistakes o' me own, that I ain't proud of. Shit I never wanna repeat." There's lasting damage on him that's still healing, and thanks to the man laying an arm's reach away, healing faster than he ever thought possible. "I'm doin' a lot better now. You've seen me get better at stuff firsthand."</p><p>Raihan sucks in a breath. "Wait, did—I'm sorry if this is going too far, but, they didn't hit you or anything, did they?"</p><p>"What? No, er—" This is not the time to bring that up. "I was never—no, I was never kicked or punched or anythin' like that."</p><p>"That doesn't really reassure me all the way. Piers, please. I gotta know for certain."</p><p>
  <em> Dammit, Raihan, stop making my heart hurt. </em>
</p><p>"Look, it was just once or twice. Got slapped by a girl once 'cause I showed up late to a date, and one time I was with a random bloke who thought it'd be fun to choke me out durin' sex. Those are the only times I've been physically hurt. Nothin' that left bruises or scars on me, so... not really a big deal."</p><p>Although losing consciousness under an iron grip to his throat was fucking terrifying in the moment. Soon as he came to and realized the guy had finished, he screamed himself hoarse for the bastard to get the fuck out of his house.</p><p>A low whine roots him to the present. "Piers... I'm sorry that happened to you. I was just... thinking about how at the start of when we met, you were really easy to spook. And how you seem to get so much out of our hugs. I worried that something bad happened to you before based on that."</p><p>That's... scarily accurate, actually. Raihan drew the opposite conclusion he should have, though.</p><p>"No, no, that's not why. It's true that I suck at the touchy stuff, but not because I was abused or anythin'." Now that he's said that much, he has to fill in the rest. Piers curls into a tighter ball and shuts his eyes to avoid the unseen gaze he knows is on him. "I might've said this before, can't remember, but... 'm just not used to that stuff. Hugs and all that. Bein' touched so intimately is pretty foreign t'me. Like, I'm used to sex, but sex is always impersonal. Sex don't mean shite t'me. It's things like hugs, holdin' hands... cuddlin', that gets to me. I ain't good at that stuff."</p><p>His voice trailed into nearly nothing at the end, and he maintains that softness, a speck above falling into a whisper. "Gettin' better about it, though. I'm tryin'. 'Cause turns out, I... I like it a lot. So thank you." His hand balls near his mouth. "'S all thanks to you."</p><p>"Oh..."</p><p>Things go quiet after that. Piers' heart is thudding away in his ears, and every time he so much as twitches, the shift of sheets over body might as well be a point-blank velcro tear. He spilled his guts, and knowing how seriously Raihan takes him, his words are being pondered as heavily as anchors. The thing that's most concerning—or maybe the most liberating, he can't tell the difference—is that he's not scared. He opened up to someone and feels no stress over how they might use the information against him, because right from the very start, he realized that Raihan is trustworthy. Piers is safe with him. It's part of why Piers started loving him.</p><p>He startles when Raihan rolls onto his back, arms open in unmistakeable invitation. No. No way.</p><p>"Raihan, you..."</p><p>"What I heard is that no one's ever given you what you need." A silhouette of hand waves against the dim glow of the window. "I can do it all for you. Any kind of touching, you can have it with me. I'll give it to you, no questions asked, because unlike those bastards, or bitches, whoever they are, I actually..." Raihan falters. "I... I care about you. And I wanna show it."</p><p>His throat closes trapdoor-tight. Soft sheets twist within his clenched hands and he doesn't dare loosen them, because if he does, there's only one place they'll want to go. The way Raihan's talking to him...</p><p>
  <em>Sounds like he might love you back.</em>
</p><p>"Come here, baby." A warm knuckle scorches down his cheek. "Let me give you what you should have had years ago."</p><p>Under a command like that, he's helpless. This is it. This right here. If Marnie hadn't helped him realize his feelings before, he sure as hell would have figured it out right now, from a touch and a nickname and an offer of unprecedented tenderness. Piers pries himself from his spot and shamefully scoots closer. The space between covers and bed gets warmer and warmer with every inch he approaches, and when he's finally a hair away from Raihan's side, there's not a spot around him that's chilled.</p><p>He can still get closer. Knows Raihan would like if he got closer. He's long past the point of no return; the only way to go is forward. Physically and emotionally. He needs this and can't deny himself any longer.</p><p>Piers lays himself right at Raihan's side and rests his cheek on a muscular shoulder. Only then does the arm beneath him flex, and a moment later, soft fingertips comb through his hair, gentle and affirming as can be.</p><p>They're cuddling. This is what he wanted, wasn't it? To casually snuggle. There's nothing casual about this, though. On every level but physical, Piers is trembling. Their first real hug was hard enough to step into, but this... The skinship, the scent, the demonstration of care and sentiment of protection, it's leagues more intense than a simple hug. This level of intimacy is terrifying and he's scared that if he moves wrong, something will shatter. The only reason he hasn't yet is because this is Raihan. It all comes down to Raihan. This beautiful bastion of compassion, who touches so lightly upon every insecurity only to surround and encase and make them safe to have, safe to open and look at and deal with without judgement. It's safe here.</p><p>"Relax... I've got you." The hand not in his hair seeks out his shoulder and gives it a rub, soft and warm like silk by the fireside. "I'll take care of you."</p><p>It's a testament to how much Piers trusts this man that the words manage to penetrate his stress and permeate deep enough to soothe him. The strokes through his hair are slow and even and gentle, and as the minutes go by, he does as Raihan says, and relaxes. Every dyne of tension lost gains them more contact as his body rests more fully against his friend's, and before long he has the brainpower to spare to wish that he wasn't wearing this band shirt. If he took it off, they'd be skin on skin, all down his front.</p><p>Piers' hand loosens from its tight press against his chest, and carefully transfers to rest over Raihan's. He doesn't want to be too bold, not when every nerve in his body is still raw, but he can allow himself this much. A hand near Raihan's heart.</p><p>Thanks to a stifled yawn, the chest swells beneath his touch. "It's gotten really late," Rai murmurs, and gives him a loose squeeze. "We should sleep. G'night, baby."</p><p>Raihan follows his own suggestion, and passes right out within minutes. Piers does not. He can't sleep. Not when this is all so new, so precarious, and far too precious to lose to something as unimportant as sleep.</p><p>"Sweet dreams," he whispers, far too late for it to be heard.</p><p>If he were bolder, he'd add one more thing, and make it the complete goodnight he's yearning to say.</p><p>
  <em>Sweet dreams, Rai. I love you.</em>
</p><p>Focused on memorizing the heat and pressure of a loving body against his, and the rise and fall of the chest housing the heart he wishes he was brave enough to have, time drags and crawls its way into the wee hours of morning, and Piers wouldn't have time pass any other way. Every waking moment he can get with this man is precious, to be savored, because there's no way in hell that something this good can last forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Damn there really is only one chapter left. Time sure flies.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. To Be Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In the penultimate section of this fic, an improvisatory jam session occurs, and this song fits the carefree, whirling atmosphere of it: <a href="https://gdbg.tv/release/2017-2-1">HoneyButterBass from Groundbreaking 2017 Disc 2!</a> (I associate the piano with Piers and the lead synth with Raihan, and there's very fun back-and-forths between those two lead instruments before they join together in the end. Gotta love musical symbolism.)</p><p>Anyhoo, enjoy the final chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Raihan wakes up, it's with warmth beneath him, not above. Or since he's facing down, maybe it still counts as 'above,' since it's his chest that's warm and not his back. He fell asleep with a warm chest, so what's changed?</p><p>Body sluggish but mind alert from the rush of discovering how his morning will start, Raihan opens his eyes. The faded logo of <em>Wyckyd Myrdyr</em>'s tenth anniversary rock tour presents itself in front of his nose, rumpled and pressed between the narrow plane of Piers' chest and the weight of Raihan's arm.</p><p>Looks like they swapped places sometime in the night. He's pillow no longer; that honorable position lies with Piers, still fast asleep, looking like a marble angel even this close, the barest rosiness filling his cheeks. He's sleeping soundly if his steady breathing is any indication, and Raihan smiles to himself at the thought that the pressure and warmth of his body might be contributing to that comfort. He's always been a sleep-cuddler. Some people hate having anyone touch them when trying to pass out, but it looks like Piers doesn't mind having six-foot-plus of lovestruck loser entwined around him.</p><p>That thought fills Raihan's head with flittering hopefuls that maybe they can sleep like this more often. Piers, safe and sound and warm and protected in his arms, and him, playing unconscious charades, where the correct guess would be lonely octopus, or maybe touch-starved boa constrictor.</p><p>A bare, pale neck is right there. It's a rare thing to see it exposed, and he'd love to push his face against that enticing expanse and simply breathe in Piers' scent. Maybe give a kiss or two or five. An affectionate nibble here and there. With how translucent Piers' skin is, it must bruise awful easily, only a tiny suck needed to pull blood to the surface to stain a mark. It could be hidden away by that big choker. Their little secret.</p><p>Raihan kicks those thoughts away like he's trying to score a goal from the opposite side of the field. If he got morning wood and the stiffness woke Piers up he would <em>wither</em> with embarrassment. Last night they made so much emotional progress and if his eager godforsaken dick makes things awkward he swears he will never touch it again.</p><p>(At the least, he'll attempt to never touch it again, and any wanking from that point forward would be very guilty.)</p><p>Last night...</p><p>Fuck, last night. If he didn't wake up with Piers in his arms he'd think he dreamed the whole thing up. In one night, Piers had opened up more than he ever had in weeks, about personal things. Vulnerable things. It was a lot to unpack, more than could be processed at once, but now, in the quiet, warm morning, friend safe in his stranglehold with them both tucked under the covers, Raihan's got all the time he needs to think.</p><p>Which is perfect, because there is a <em>lot</em> to think about.</p><p>Piers revealed, after some prying, that he had been treated badly by partners and strangers alike. Denied softness, hugs, the reassurance of steady benevolent touch from someone trusted to care about him. Raihan's heart ached for every piece of implied neglect thrown Piers' way. How fucking stupid were those exes for not treasuring what they had? How could they not take this man and love and cherish and hold him and tell him that he's worth every kindness in the world?</p><p><em>I think you'd be a good boyfriend,</em> Piers had told him.<em> Anyone would be lucky to have you.</em></p><p>But would <em>Piers</em> feel lucky to have him, that's the question. He hopes that the bar of what counts as 'good boyfriend' is as high as it should be. He doesn't want Piers to consider him a catch just because he, what, doesn't yell or raise his hands? Would he get a gold star simply for giving hugs and holding Piers' hand and not being a neglectful piece of shit? If that's all it takes to dazzle the man dozing away in his arms, then... then he won't stand for it. He can do so much more than what's frankly the bare minimum of effort. It's great that Piers takes his touch to be so meaningful, but they really shouldn't be treated as so earth-shattering. One day he wants them to be able to hug and snuggle and play with each other's hair as carefreely as wind scatters leaves. Still precious and impactful, but not because of rarity. Precious because they were shared between them of all people.</p><p>One day, he hopes they can have that.</p><p>Piers also admitted that he's bad at affection, definitely from lack of practice thanks to those aforementioned terrible exes. Raihan doubts he's gotten much affection from his adoptive parents either... So Piers is bad at giving and receiving it, but getting better! Wanting to get better, all thanks to Raihan. That reveal nearly did him in... He's used to people saying he's inspirational, but it's not often that anyone tells him he inspired them to heal.</p><p>Ugh... His chest is doing that clenchy pang thing all over again. Geez, not even five minutes after waking up and he's already aching inside. Being in love is rough on the body.</p><p>He oh-so-gently adjusts his whole body to be a more comfortable cuddle partner for his loved one. Piers can take all the time he needs to learn how to give and take affection without stress or fear. Raihan will guide him through anything.</p><p>He tucks his head down, just to rub his cheek along a clothed, bony shoulder. He's got something sacred here.</p><p>Would it be too much to whisper a confession? If he said those words, right now, would they be heard? Or go amiss, lost in the void of sleep? There isn't much more he can do to convey how he feels other than using those words. Last night he nearly spilled them, multiple times, but never did, instead framing the sentiment in other ways. Open arms, offering himself, his body as shelter, <em>relax, I've got you, I'll take care of you, anything you need I can do it all for you. Let me give you what you should have had years ago.</em> Everything but those final damning words.</p><p>It's okay, though. At the time, Piers didn't need a love confession. He just needed somebody to hold him.</p><p>All things considered, Raihan's been the patron saint of restraint, but he can't hold his feelings back forever. Waiting until their song is finished? How the fuck can he wait that long, after all they've been through already? He'll go insane if he has to keep his feelings bottled up for much longer. He's waited long enough, he thinks, past all those crucial moments where jumping the gun would have spelled his doom.</p><p>He's triply, quadruply relieved that he kept his shit together at the start and never invaded Piers' space outside of the smidgens he felt were okay. Or the accidents that just kinda happened, that he's still embarrassed about. God, imagine if Piers caught him wildly jerking off against his own front door that first night they met. Piers would have looked at him like he was a creepy weirdo and fucked off into the night, never to be seen again.</p><p>Now, though? Now? After they've touched hearts and been each other's support and given so much to each other, freely and without judgement, because they legitimately care about each other's health and emotional well-being?</p><p>Now, a confession might have a chance at working. He just... needs to be careful about not treading on anything that'll scare Piers away. For all the man might be willing to step outside his comfort zone and into Raihan's arms, that doesn't mean Raihan can take him on the intimacy equivalent of a joyride, inasmuch as gratuitous hand-holding and hugs from behind can count towards that. Sex is a no-go too—he thinks.</p><p>Raihan bites his lip and closes his eyes. To him, sex is a great way to feel close to someone, to share a connection, even with a stranger. To Piers, sex... means nothing. That kind of hurts. Optimistically, it could be the case that Piers puts such little emotional value into sex because he's never had someone to value it with, and with Raihan, it could feel different, but... he feels icky going down that route. It's not his place to think he might be the one to 'fix' how anyone else experiences sex, even if he really, sincerely hopes that it could be special between them. Assuming they ever reach that point.</p><p>Definitely off the table, then... yeah, no chance of morning wood now.</p><p>Oh, god, there was that other discouraging thing, too. That casual, throwaway line about not wanting to deal with obsessive people. Gahhh, maybe he should rethink this whole thing. That was basically a keep-away, tone-it-down signal, wasn't it?</p><p>If he wasn't tangled up in bed with someone he doesn't want to disturb, Raihan would find the nearest spot of uncovered wall to apply his forehead to, bombastically. Too many thoughts, too many ups and downs and clashing little conflicts turning his head and heart into a pending warzone. Not appropriate at all for the setting he's in. Relax, Raihan, relax. Take a bird's-eye look at things.</p><p>He is cuddling in bed with his friend. Who he is in love with. Who he would like to confess to, but can't make up his mind on when he can, if he can, or how he can. He doesn't even know if he <em>should,</em> but at this point there's no stopping him because it has to come out. The worst that can happen is Piers rejecting him, on grounds that would be, painfully, completely valid. If that happens... of course he would be vaporized on the spot, but he wouldn't take it out on anyone; he'd respect the decision and hope that they could still remain friends. Please let their friendship survive this... He doesn't think he can survive being alone again, with only a glass screen to act the facade of real company and a distant best friend. Loneliness is a terrifying prospect, but! He can't let that fear control him. Fear is the mind-killer, and all that nonsense. He's a confident man with someone he wants to stay by his side, and he will work for the opportunity to have that, goddammit.</p><p>In this current moment, he should enjoy what he has, and not let ominous thoughts ruin what should be a peaceful morning. Who knows how long it'll be until Piers joins him in wakefulness. He's always seemed like a guy who gets godawful sleep, so Raihan wants him to get as much rest as possible here.</p><p>Raihan sighs as delicately as he can, and tilts his head back to look at the man he's come to hold so dear. It's not often that he gets to stare as much as he pleases, much less from this close up.</p><p>He mouths his thought, not daring to put any breath into it. <em>"Pretty thing..."</em></p><p>Piers' lips are chapped, which is rather cute in its contradiction. Shouldn't singers take good care of their mouths? And instrumentalists, their hands? Piers' are so rough, he knows, fingertips hardened with guitar string calluses, cuticles that have seen better days, and nail polish that Raihan has never seen smooth and whole. Always black, always chipped, nibbled and scraped by nervous teeth in one anxious tic amidst a concert of others. While awake, Piers is always moving in some way, whether it's drumming fingers, spinning pens, tapping a foot or twirling his hair or glancing around like something's bound to jump at him unless he stays vigilant. His posture's horrible enough to be a doctor's office poster example of how <em>not</em> to carry oneself, and the dark circles under his eyes might as well be tattooed on. His silhouette? Reminiscent of a broken umbrella. His mouth? Perma-frowned as a default. An easy scowler and sneerer and smirker, less easy of a smiler and laugher.</p><p>Any random off the street could look at Piers and point out a pile of imperfections, to which Raihan would grab their shoulders and shake them, and say <em>are you crazy? He's the most beautiful man alive.</em></p><p>Raihan's gone to near-obsessive lengths to keep himself pristine and polished, all angles presentable for any camera lens that might be nearby, but he knows his smile can't hold a candle to the ones that grace Piers' face, slightly crooked teeth and chapped lips and all. His hands are as soft and manicured as he can make them, but there's no hands he'd rather be touched by more than the chewed-on ones hidden somewhere beneath the tousled blankets.</p><p>He hopes Piers likes his hands. His touch, his smile. His body. Piers has seen him at his worst and didn't flinch once, has stepped into his arms, leaned against him, so he has no reason to believe otherwise, but he'd still love that confirmation of knowing for sure, that the man he finds such comfort in is comforted by him too.</p><p>
  <em>He wouldn't have cuddled up to you if he didn't, mate.</em>
</p><p>Beneath him, a warm body stirs, and he watches Piers' face go from relaxed to slightly scrunched as he wades his way to consciousness.</p><p>"Mmh... Rai?" That airy, tired tone, so damn cute.</p><p>Raihan loosens his arm from where it was wrapped around Piers' waist, and carefully moves a stray lock of hair from bothering the eyelashes trying to flutter open.</p><p>"Good morning, beautiful."</p><p>It takes a moment for the words to reach Piers' laggy brain, but once they do, his eyes fly wide, face flooded with an eruptive red. Now there's a new life goal: wake Piers up with a compliment every morning. Raihan only grins and cuddles closer, aiming to soothe.</p><p>"Mornin', Rai..." The blankets swish over an arm navigating through them, and soon a thin hand skates up the back of his neck, holds the base of his skull, and rubs. Just like that, any lingering worries <em>poof,</em> dissipate away like candle smoke.</p><p>"You sleep well, baby?" Feels so good to call him that out loud.</p><p>"Mm, yeah. Best I've had in ages," Piers yawns into a melodic hum. "Must be the mattress."</p><p>"Only the mattress?" He pouts and wraps himself tighter, cracking a smile when Piers chuckles and pets his head.</p><p>"Alright, I admit the holdin' had somethin' to do with it. You're real cozy, Rai."</p><p>He's already won at life today. Just from that. He hides his face into Piers' neck and smiles.</p><p>"Anytime, baby."</p><p>For a few cozy minutes, they lie there in silence. Raihan's typically an early riser, flinging himself free of the covers as soon as he wakes up, but in these extreme circumstances he will keep his arse in bed as long as possible.</p><p>Piers eventually speaks, gently tugging him down from cloud number nine. "Thanks. For, you know... all a' last night."</p><p>He picks his head up. "Hey, you don't have to thank me for that. I just did what felt right."</p><p>"Still... it was a lot. Listenin' t'me, lettin' me lie on ya..." A single finger fidgets, nail gently scratching his head. "I really needed all that. Don't think I coulda gotten it from anyone but you, either. Thank you, Rai."</p><p>He almost whimpers. Heat crawls up his face, relentless, and the blankets are suddenly too warm.</p><p>"It was nothing." No, bad word choice! "I mean, it was no trouble. I really like being able to do things for you. It makes me happy. I'm always happy to hel—take care of you when you need it."</p><p>Much better...</p><p>Piers turns his head away, and smooths his palm down to the bare skin of Raihan's upper back. He wants to arch into the touch, chase it, but he holds himself still, allowing Piers the stage to do or say whatever he wants without distraction or interruption. A shy throat clears, and the small portion of Piers' face he can see is coloured pink. "Likewise. Kinda wild that I don't feel in your debt or anythin'. Guess it's 'cause that whatever we've got is mutual, yeah?"</p><p>Mutual.</p><p>
  <em>...Mutual?!?</em>
</p><p>Suddenly dizzy, Raihan dazedly returns a weak "Y-Yeah..."</p><p>Fingers drum on his back. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Two-one-two-one-two. One-two-three-four.</p><p>This is an opening, isn't it. A perfect opening. He could confess right here, be perfectly smooth about it! Three words, delivered on the coattails of something clever and romantic and charming and it'll be so easy, so easy!</p><p>"Piers, I..."</p><p>The fingers still. Piers is listening closely. On second thought, it might be easier to focus on just the important parts. Mouth dry, Raihan presses the tip of his tongue to his front teeth. Just one vocalization to start the 'L' and then it's all uphill from there. Tongue tip to front teeth, release, bottom lip along front teeth, release. L-O-V-E. Easy. Simple.</p><p>Here goes.</p><p>"Can I make us breakfast?" Raihan digs his incisor into his tongue. Okay. This is harder than he thought.</p><p>After a long pause whose meaning he can't decipher, a calloused thumb twitches, then rubs a slow circle between his shoulder blades, and Raihan slowly relaxes out of his self-born tension.</p><p>"Nah, 's alright. I don't eat in the mornin's."</p><p>What! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! No wonder Piers always looks dead as a default state if he's not eating breakfast every day.</p><p>"But," Piers says, "if you'd like, I can put somethin' together for ya."</p><p>"What, for me? No, I can't ask you to cook, you shouldn't—"</p><p>"I want to."</p><p>That shuts him up. Piers wants to cook for him. Piers wants to <em>cook</em> for him. <em>Piers</em> wants to cook <em>for him.</em> Guest etiquette aside, no fucking way is he passing this up, he gets to taste something homemade from the man he's in love with. Consider it a consolation prize for failing to confess just then.</p><p>He tries (and no doubt fails) to not look eager. "I mean, if you really want to, I can't stop you. What's mine is yours, have free reign of the whole house, not just the fridge and kitchen! My home is your home."</p><p>That last sentence puts an embarrassed press to Piers' mouth. "I'll make us somethin' nice after ya let me go. You catch some more sleep if you need it."</p><p>Raihan disentangles himself and scoots back, arms and chest colder without a body against them. "No, I'm awake!"</p><p>He's not missing a second of morning routine with Piers.</p><p>While his sleepover partner slides out of bed, Raihan pushes himself to sit upright, and stretches both arms overhead with a tight yawn. When his eyes open, he catches Piers mid-head turn.</p><p>"Mind if I use your guest bath to freshen up first?"</p><p>Guest? Raihan's own bathroom—the one attached to his bedroom—has two sinks, so they totally could share and clean up side by side, trade glances in the mirror, bump hips, all that, but he's not about to push for that. After being treated as a teddy bear all night Piers deserves some space.</p><p>"Not at all! It's down the hall, you've been there before." Because that's where he chose to have his little breakdown weeks ago. "There's some spare stuff in the cabinets, help yourself. Got hair ties and some brushes and everything. In fact," he rambles on, knowing full well that he's pushing his luck, "if you ever want to spend the night again, it might be convenient to keep some things of your own over here. You know, personal toothbrush, some clothes, uh, makeup, you wear that, right?" Wait, it'd be a pain to own two copies of the same makeup supplies. That stuff gets expensive fast. "For the makeup, I could cover that! If you tell me what you use, send me pictures of your stuff, then I could get my hands on some extras for you to keep here. Or you could keep the new ones at your place and the used ones here at..." <em>Slow down, listen to yourself! </em>"...at mine."</p><p>He sounds crazy. So crazy. Obsessive is bad, remember! He just wants Piers to feel at home here, but that can't happen if he acts like the type of person Piers would rather not deal with.</p><p>When he peeks up, unable to not check how Piers is looking at him, all he finds is an expression colored with enough fondness that it smothers his fears and makes way for hope instead.</p><p>"Don't think I've ever met a guy who'd buy me a whole set o' cosmetics just to keep in their bathroom."</p><p>False alarm, everyone, false alarm! He can go back to being bold. "None of them were me, were they?"</p><p>The little laugh that dances out of Piers counts as a formative memory even though Raihan's already as grown as he can be. "You're one of a kind, it's true. Catch ya downstairs, love."</p><p>His insides flutter.</p><p>
  <em>Love. Love. Call me that every day, out loud, I'm begging you.</em>
</p><p>Piers makes no detour to get dressed. He strides straight out the bedroom door, borrowed t-shirt hung over his frame, the curtain of it hiding the cute butt that Raihan would stare at if it were visible center stage.</p><p>Once the last flick of hair vanishes around the door frame, the spell breaks, and Raihan slumps with a rub to his neck. Good news of breakfast aside, he still botched his first attempt at confessing, but he can try again. No, he <em>has</em> to try again. Before Piers leaves this house, Raihan has got to make his feelings known. Piers won't walk out of here not knowing, even if the confession has to happen on the bloody front stoop.</p><p>Raihan makes the call to at least throw pants on so he can match Piers in a state of half-dress, and steps into his own bathroom to make himself presentable for the day, as well as pep talk himself in the mirror to psych himself up for attempt number two. This time, he's got it. He's a master at being his own hype man. No help needed whatsoever!</p><p>...</p><p>
  <span class="hide"></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="hide"></span>
</p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I know you're busy on Sunday mornings but I'm about to do something pretty big and needed to tell
            you</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>It's about the guy I've told you a lot about, remember Piers? How you told me to tone it down way
            back when, and how I kinda stopped updating you on how that was going? welllll........</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Update! turns out I've fallen for him pretty hard, and today I'm going to try and tell him how I
            feel! Like, sometime within the next hour kind of today. Can't live with lovesickness forever, right? cuz
            MAN do i have it reeaaaaeally bad, hahaaa, yea......</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Don't worry, I'm like, 70% sure I have a real shot. We've really gotten a lot closer recently, it's
            great! He's a great guy, and I know for a fact he really likes me and cares about me and everything. He's
            really good for me, and I think I've been good for him too.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>So, wish me luck, in spirit! I know you'll see this by lunchtime, so hopefully I'll have a positive
            update by then.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>If it's not positive, then, uh</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>We'll just have to see! :D I'm sure everything will turn out just fine</span>
        </p>
</div><span class="hide">
  <br/>
</span><p>The face in the mirror does not match the cheery emoticon on the screen.</p><p>He lightly slaps himself on the cheeks—motivational habit he picked up from his best friend—and strolls right on out, as prepped as he'll ever get.</p><p>Piers' clothes are still on his bedroom floor, and the metal choker still rests on the dresser where it was last placed.</p><p>When Raihan descends downstairs and hooks around to follow the narrow hallway, he isn't prepared for the slow escalation of teases to his senses. First is the sound. Something's sizzling in the kitchen, that must be the sausage he had in the fridge. Scent soon confirms it, and it's not just meat that's cooking. Eggs, peppers, cheese... Thank god he'd gone grocery shopping the other day, if he had nothing in his fridge that would be terribly embarrassing.</p><p>Two more steps down the hall and he freezes when another sound wafts around the corner. Humming... Gentle and slow, the familiar melody of their song wraps around him and lures him closer with a sweetness not found in the performed version.</p><p>He ducks through the entryway and freezes save for the twitch of his hand towards his phone.</p><p>At the stove stands Piers. Wearing nothing but the borrowed shirt, swaying slightly and humming as he cooks, he looks all the world like he's at home here. Piers tucks a lock of hair behind an ear and shifts his weight in time with their music, and whispers a tiny <em>ah!</em> when it's time to flip something in the pan. Omelettes, looks like. A small one is already plated, while the one in the pan is huge. Piers took his bigger appetite into account...</p><p>A sledgehammer of yearning nearly knocks Raihan on his arse. All that's missing is a hug from behind to complete this domestic image. A cute apron wouldn't hurt, either. A kiss to the back of the neck. He is so fucking lovesick he belongs in the ER.</p><p>Rather than listen to the burning urge to walk up and wrap his arms around that slender waist from behind, Raihan clears his throat as politely as he can.</p><p>"Smells great."</p><p>Piers doesn't even glance over his shoulder. "Ya got good ingredients," he says, as if that's the only reason.</p><p>They trade no more words than that. While Piers finishes up at the stove, Raihan swiftly sets the table using his knowledge of what's in every cabinet and drawer. One day, if Piers has visited enough times, he'll know where all the glasses and silverware are, too.</p><p>Breakfast is divine and he makes that known, effusively. He nearly burns his tongue from being unable to resist the fragrant food for longer than ten seconds, the curling steam as inviting as it was warning. The desperate puffing and hand-waving that follows rouses a chuckle from his friend, which makes it all worth it.</p><p>The last time he ate something someone else cooked for him was... damn, last year's Christmas with his family, but that doesn't really count, does it? All that food was for the gathering, not him specifically. See, that just makes this even more special.</p><p>Would Piers ever want to meet his family? Meet Leon? He certainly wants to meet Marnie someday. The only real family Piers has. His parents would love Piers, adore him, invite him to family gatherings before he's even had the chance to memorize their names, because they've been dying for their son to finally settle down and get serious about someone ever since his older sister went ahead and got married first, curse her for setting that precedent. Good ol' Mum and Dad would be over the moon if he even breathed a hint that he was dating someone.</p><p>That all kind of relies on him successfully asking Piers out to begin with. He's almost out of omelette and therefore almost out of time. In his defense, he wanted to savor the precious food Piers cooked for him, so it was time well spent!</p><p>Meanwhile, Piers has barely picked through half of his. Come to think of it, he hasn't been talkative at all since he came downstairs; Raihan was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice. A flash of worry has him setting his glass down. Piers is the type to get stuck in his own head, Raihan shouldn't have left him alone there for so long.</p><p>"Thank you for cooking!" His voice is a little too loud after the relative silence. "I love your—food."</p><p>He wants to wince at the stumble. Those key words slipped out of him and his mouth sent a panic signal to his brain. It was just a casual compliment, get it together, man!</p><p>Piers doesn't acknowledge the awkward trip. He merely nudges a fragment of bell pepper around his plate, bare feet scuffing the floor under the table. "Glad ya like it. I can cook for ya again sometime, if you want... Somethin' fancier than breakfast, too. Ain't no trouble fer me."</p><p>His heart flutters like a precious little bird. He can have this again. Which implies that Piers will be here, in his kitchen again, implying that Piers might stay the night again, just like they briefly talked about upstairs.</p><p>"I'd love that! And there's nothing wrong with breakfast, breakfast is great. Yours specifically!" Piers cooking breakfast for him means that Piers will eat it too, like he is now (sort of). That's a double bonus. Get some food into that body first thing in the morning.</p><p>Piers cuts a corner off his remaining omelette and has a bite, smiling slightly around it.</p><p>"Next time it'll be pancakes, then."</p><p>Next time, maybe they'll be eating pancakes as boyfriends. This is another perfect opportunity. No thinking, just doing! Say the words! Say them! Out out out!</p><p>"Piers, I—"</p><p>"Raihan—"</p><p>Mutual pauses. Raihan breaks the terse silence first, hand tight around his glass of orange juice to keep it from fidgeting.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>Piers lowers his head and nibbles his lip. "...Could you do me a favor and fetch my pants from upstairs?"</p><p>He about swallows his tongue. Piers is ready to leave?</p><p>He flashes a smile and a thumbs-up and stiffly rises from the hard chair, pacing straight out the kitchen and down the hall and up the stairs and through the door and into his bedroom and...</p><p>"How am I supposed to do this," he groans to himself, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This is impossible..."</p><p><em>You're the master of impossible,</em> Leon's voice plays in his head. <em>Never let anyone tell you can't do anything, Rai!</em></p><p>If Leon didn't make it big in sports, he could have cashed out as a motivational speaker. Lee is literally the only person in the world who can spout corny shite like "I believe in you!" and "You can do it if you try!" while <em>completely meaning every word,</em> enough that you can't help but believe him too.</p><p>Ugh...</p><p>Raihan swipes the jeans off the floor, about to grab the shirt too when he remembers that Piers only asked for his pants. He has a hunch that he's about to lose yet another article of clothing, but that's okay, he doesn't mind. Piers walking out the door with his shirt means that other people might see Piers wearing that shirt, which is clearly too big for him, and might draw the conclusion that he's borrowing it from someone else, quite possibly a lover or boyfriend.</p><p>Confidence marginally bolstered, Raihan returns downstairs to see Piers clearing the table and putting dishes in the sink.</p><p>"Don't! I'll take care of it! No cleaning, that's my job, here, take your pants."</p><p>They trade places.</p><p>In the corner of his eye, the bounce of hair catches his attention and slows his hands within the sink. Piers is shimmying into those jeans. <em>Shimmying.</em> The tight denim scoots up those pale thighs with every fresh tilt of Piers' hips. What he wouldn't give to see the back view, how the waist of the pants is no doubt pressing Piers' arse up before it's finally pulled over that final swell and fastened tight.</p><p>Raihan almost gives himself whiplash looking back down at the plate in his hand. Rinse rinse rinse, he loves rinsing. Loves doing the dishes. Not as much as he'd love stopping Piers in his tracks and holding him here for long enough for him to get his goddamn shit together, though. He is wasting <em>so much</em> time right now. Piers is dressed, only needs his boots, and those are right by the door. Why is he bent over the sink with wet hands instead of getting on a knee right now! Get! Your shit! Together, Raihan!</p><p>A clearing throat catches his attention and reels it up from its panic spiral. Piers is standing in the middle of the kitchen, silken hair pulled over a shoulder. He strokes down it, lip bitten and leg fidgeting. Waiting for something...? Wanting to do something?</p><p>Of course, their goodbye hug!</p><p>...Oh no, the goodbye hug! He's running out of time, Piers is going to leave as soon as it ends! It's stall-able, but he can't hold on for too long without coming off as completely suspicious, so—do or die.</p><p>Raihan flicks the water off his hands and towels them dry, pacing straight towards Piers with open arms.</p><p>Piers backs up a step. Raihan halts.</p><p>Was that... not the right move to make? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, he does not like that look on Piers' face, something's wrong, what could it be! Is it something he can fix? Something he has to apologize for? What did he do wrong.</p><p>Piers answers without needing to be asked, anxiously petting down his hair and half-stepping on his own feet. "Rai... before I go." He tightens his grip on his locks, like they can give him strength. Strength for what? "All mornin', I could tell somethin's been on your mind. Not to sound narcissistic, but, I can't shake the feelin' that it's been about me..."</p><p>His stomach drops into a knot, which leaves plenty of extra space for his heartbeat to clang around and fill his ears. Piers looks up from wherever his eyes were before, someplace around Raihan's knees.</p><p>"Is there somethin' you wanna tell me?"</p><p>Pinned like a butterfly.</p><p>...He can't lie to that face. He'd never lie to Piers period, but when he has <em>that</em> look on his face—like he's a single negative word away from wrenching into anguish—the mere thought of brushing off the question is like holding a stake over his own chest.</p><p>"Yeah," he forces out. "There is."</p><p>Piers hugs himself, and Raihan wishes he didn't have to. "...Will you tell me?"</p><p>
  <em>That's what I'm trying to find out.</em>
</p><p>One shy foot shuffles forward. Then another. The gap between them shrinks, yet Raihan can't even close his arms once Piers is finally fitted between them.</p><p>"Please, Rai..." Piers leans closer against him, and that slight pressure against his chest helps ease a particular key thought into the air, one that's been lurking in the back of his mind ever since last night. A throwaway comment, to Piers. To Raihan, a fear, a worry that he might have had a foot on a landmine this whole time and never knew.</p><p>His arms gingerly wrap around the small body against him, and the way Piers sighs and presses into him guards the vulnerable part of him begging to keep his mouth shut.</p><p>No more hiding.</p><p>"Last night..." he mumbles into soft hair, "you said something about not wanting to deal with anyone obsessed with you."</p><p>No answer.</p><p>Raihan slides his hand up the bumps of Piers' spine, hugs him closer, tighter, just this side of possessive. "Was that a lie, or do you just not know how crazy I am over you?"</p><p>Piers finally shifts. It's not to pull away. It's to peer up at him, shy through his bangs.</p><p>"You sayin' you're obsessed with me?"</p><p>An opportunity to backpedal. He could lie and say no, downplay the intensity of his feelings, but he can't bear to be dishonest about this when it could be such a deal-breaker. He swallows to preemptively steady his voice, but it doesn't work very well, since his next words come out breezy and weak. "Might be, yeah."</p><p>"Ya wouldn't..." Piers tucks his face away, and Raihan's hand automatically lifts to cup the back of his head. Wouldn't what, wouldn't <em>what?</em> He holds his tongue on asking, and waits for the rest to come, whether it's reward or condemnation. "Ya wouldn't call it anythin' else?"</p><p>He'd swear a jackrabbit made a burrow in his ribcage, thumping like the apocalypse has been sighted on the horizon and they've got no other siren than beating the ground to warn everyone to evacuate. Except it's not an apocalypse. It's a tiny, open little door.</p><p>"I might," he breathes. "Sure is something close."</p><p>The hands pressed against his chest slide down and loop around his middle. No gaps between them, now, and it's the reassurance Raihan needs, that Piers wants to stay right here and hear him out.</p><p>"Elaborate."</p><p>Got it. This is it, for real this time. Raihan loosens his arms, allowing Piers the freedom to tear away if this turns out to be one big mistake. "I... I won't turn it into a big speech. I'll keep it simple, and straightforward, and, and that way if you don't want to hear it it'll be over soon."</p><p>He wonders if Piers can feel how warm he's getting thanks to these nerves. Good thing he's shirtless, hah... Unless he starts to sweat, then it'll be very very bad that he's shirtless. Please, god, don't start sweating...</p><p>He gulps. "Piers. I..."</p><p>A dozen variations race through his mind, from laid-back and casual to operatic theatre levels of dramatic. Should he keep it simple, ask Piers out? Jump straight to relationship things? Be humble, or put a little swaggery into it? <em>Hey, baby, I think we belong together, be my bird and I'll rock your world.</em> Nope—nope nope nope, he can hear the scrape of shovel through grave dirt just from that. Piers deserves plain clarity. Keep it simple, dolt, just clarify how you feel and let things flow from there and everything will be just fine. Juuust fine...</p><p>Head spinning, Raihan labors to at least look at his friend properly. "Piers. You already know I care deeply about you. You've practically become one of my best friends, and I hope that what I have to say doesn't change that, but I'm going to risk it anyways."</p><p>His arms are weak, legs are weak, like the bones within them are shivering with fear of breaking. His ribcage is especially at risk, what with the frenzied prisoner inside pounding away against the bars. A hot flush floods through his limbs and great, now his hands are trembling too. Fuck, fuck, he knew this would be tough, but this is bad. Really bad. Keep it together, Raihan. This is a defining moment in his life. Make or break. Walk the plank and hope he doesn't plummet and choke and drown. No wussing out, just say some words, the right ones, not the wrong ones. God, can he really do this? He's got no choice but to put himself out there hope this doesn't explode in his—</p><p>Cold palms press over his cheeks and his world expands back to what it should be. Piers' brows are furrowed in concern, face dusted with pink, eyes clear and accepting.</p><p>"Whatever it is you've got to say, I'm listenin'. It's okay, I ain't gonna hate ya for whatever it is. Speak from the heart, love, I'll hear you."</p><p>The encouragement works wonders. Raihan swallows down the knot in his throat.</p><p>"Okay. Okay..." He shakily wraps his arms around Piers' lower back, using him as an anchor, and the hands on his face stroke smooth over his cheekbones. Familiar roughness, guitarist fingers. Touch of a trusted friend.</p><p>Piers won't hate him, and he'll be heard. He can do this. It doesn't have to be witty and charming, it just needs to be out.</p><p>He intakes a deep, cleansing breath, and allows it to flow out steadily, no push or rush, and after a final pause, his very last, he says it.</p><p>"I love you."</p><p>The barest of gasps, so quiet he'd have imagined it if he didn't see Piers' lips part up close. He shuts his eyes, firms his arms, and continues, milking this momentum for all it's worth.</p><p>"I've loved you for a while now. And this isn't as a fanboy talking to an artist he admires, I mean I really, truly, love you. As Piers, the person I've gotten to know. You're just—so incredible, and I'm not good with words, but I could still do my best to list out all the reasons why if you gave me the time. I want to take you out on dates, and spoil you, give you anything you could want, and take you home and hold you through the night and wake up just like we did this morning, and—and I want to have casual morning routines together, and eat breakfast with you every day, and I know I sound obsessive with this, but really, I just—I want to have a life with you. I love you."</p><p>That could have been better. Could have been a lot worse, too.</p><p>"Sorry," he groans, a hair away from succumbing to feeling pathetic. "I swear I didn't become your friend with sneaky romantic intentions. The platonic stuff we have already is incredible, you're genuinely my friend and I want to genuinely be and <em>stay</em> your friend even if this flops. Geez, I probably should have asked you out properly instead of dumping all this on you, huh? I- I wanted to wait until after our song was released to do it, but after last night I couldn't take it anymore, and—whoa, hey, what are you—!"</p><p>The arms suddenly hooked around his neck haul him down. Raihan flings his own arms out for balance to stop him from crashing into the smaller man, confused as hell with another question teetering on his lips that he doesn't get to speak, because his mouth is suddenly blocked. Blocked by another mouth. Specifically by lips. Chapped lips. On his lips. Lips that belong to...</p><p>Piers is—</p><p>Oh god, he's—</p><p>This is really happening. It's super real, this is happening, it's real and happening and—</p><p>
  <em>Kiss him back, you fucking idiot!</em>
</p><p>The invisible thread suspending him in surprise snaps and he gladly falls to be caught by the kiss. The roughness of it is delightful and grounding and he audibly groans, arms wrapping around Piers and drawing them flush together. Is Piers standing on his tiptoes? Fuck, he must be, how splendid is that?</p><p>Feathery bangs tickle his face, floral and sweet enough to make an addict out of him, if this kiss doesn't seal the deal first. Piers tastes perfect, feels perfect, so receptive yet not passive at all.</p><p>Not passive at all.</p><p>Does this mean—does Piers feel the same way? Raihan pulls back first. He needs the answer. The ability to form words has completely fled from him, stolen away by the touch and dance of talented lips. He relies on his eyes to communicate, staring wide, hopeful, beaming a <em>please please please let it be true, love me too, I want you, I need you, you you you!</em></p><p>Piers looks up at him. Long lashes, clear eyes, no trace of displeasure or dislike, and Raihan's heart suddenly has a hundred balloon strings tied to it, lifting it up and up, and Piers licks his lips, opens his mouth, and says...</p><p>"I'll get my hair all in yer shower, you know that, right?"</p><p>What? Mind scrambled and heart thrumming like a hummingbird, Raihan returns the first random thing his scattered brain hands him. "I don't—care? I let my laundry pile all over the floor. I don't see what that has to—"</p><p>"And I'm a horrible pessimist; real drainin' t'be around fer long."</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh,</em> two can play at that game, especially if playing it together means what he thinks it means.</p><p>"So what? I've got a <em>lot</em> to drain, got so much energy it annoys people sometimes. Your pessimism comes from wanting to protect yourself, how could I fault you for that? In fact, I love how grounded you are, it balances me."</p><p>"Well—" Piers flushes hot. "I'm a nitpicker."</p><p>"And I'm too carefree."</p><p>He knows he's winning when Piers shifts against him, embarrassed but determined to see this strange ping pong match through. "I overthink everythin' and could stand to lose some paranoia, you wouldn't wanna deal with that, do ya?"</p><p>"I figured that out a long time ago and fell for you anyways!" He grins and leans down, puts their faces closer once more. "I'm super clingy and get jealous real easily, do <em>you</em> want to deal with <em>that?</em>"</p><p>Piers groans. "If you know me, you know I don't mind clingy." An arm loosens from his neck and a rough hand rubs up his cheek. He gleefully nuzzles into the touch. "Knowin' you really want me is..."</p><p>"I've always wanted you," he jumps in, heart swelling and filling every available nook and cranny until his whole body is glowing and warm. He takes hold of the hand on his cheek, presses it harder against him and kisses the palm. "I love you so much. Fuck, I've been holding that in forever, you have no idea how hard it was to not confess to you fucking months ago."</p><p>"And you've got no idea how much it means t'me that you gave it time. That ya gave <em>me</em> time. Just like you ain't a poet, I ain't good at fluffy feelsy stuff, but—but you make me want to be. I want it, I want this with you, <em>because</em> it's you, and I..." The rush of bravado falters. Piers closes his eyes and visibly steels himself before opening them again. "I love you too, Raihan. I'll gladly be yours, so please, kiss me again."</p><p>The fire in his heart is only rivaled by the brand new burn in his eyes. Raihan chokes out what he hopes sounds like a yes, and clutches Piers so tight against him he'd worry about breaking the man if their second kiss didn't scream <em>alive and well.</em> He's full to bursting and it spills right over, tears quietly streaking down his cheeks and brushing their lips with salt. They're close enough that he doesn't need sight to navigate this, and thank god, because even if his eyes were open he'd see nothing but blur.</p><p>He doesn't remember crowding Piers against the wall and he can't rightly care. The only extra details that matter in this shared little world are the cold fingers brushing his tears away, tracing his abs, gripping his waist, pulling him closer for more which is something he can always, always give.</p><p>"Take me back upstairs," Piers pants when they finally part. "Stagger won't mind waitin' a few more hours to be fed."</p><p>He doesn't remember ever hauling ass this quickly. It's a miracle he doesn't trip up the stairs.</p><p>As soon as they're inside the bedroom, Piers kicks the door shut and shoves him against it. The door rattles in its frame under the weight of his back, and all of a sudden Piers is on his knees and fingers are twisting into the button of his jeans.</p><p>Oh holy shit no way—this is a dream, he has to be dreaming. Skinny fingers hook into the waistband of both jeans and underwear, enough of a shock to confirm that he is very much awake.</p><p>"Piers!" he yelps, once his dick is exposed.</p><p>"Don't tell me you're surprised." His clothes are dragged to his ankles and he almost stumbles stepping out of them for Piers to toss away. "You ain't the only one who's been wound up. Lemme have my taste, love, I need you."</p><p>He's helpless against an order like <em>that.</em> Piers could ask for just about anything at this point and it would be freely given. There's also something sexy about being completely bare while Piers still has his clothes on, on his knees, running his hands down and back up Raihan's thighs before pinning his hips to the door. Oh yeah. He's more than happy to submit.</p><p>"Christ, look at you... shower, not a grower, eh?" Piers chuckles and draws his calloused fingertips down the half-hard shaft. It rises under the tease, wanting more attention. "Very nice..."</p><p>"A-All yours, sweetheart." He blushes something fierce when Piers makes another appreciative sound and wraps his hand around the base. Fuck, he's never been one for temperature play before, but that cold touch is quickly changing his stance on the matter.</p><p>Piers is really giving him a thorough look-over. No rush, no hurry, just... taking his time, taking him in. As confident as Raihan is in his own body, having the man of his dreams hum and tilt his head while touching him like that is enough to give any guy a flash of worry about suddenly not being good enough.</p><p>That mote of anxiety dissolves the instant a hot tongue—scalding in comparison to the fingers—drags up the underside of his cock. He swears aloud without thinking.</p><p>"Hands in my hair if ya want it, love, I don't mind some tuggin'."</p><p>Piers doesn't wait for him to touch before taking him into his mouth, eyes aimed upwards and emanating a smirk.</p><p>"Oh, fuck, Piers, that—oh my god," he gasps. He's met some enthusiastic blowjob-givers in his life, but Piers is going down on him like his cock is the answer to all of Piers' problems and the source of all future joy.</p><p>His hands fumble into Piers' hair, holding his bangs back and out of the way. The sight of himself disappearing into that hungry mouth would be enough to get him off even if he were to suddenly go physically numb. Fuck, it doesn't help—or it does help—that he hasn't gotten action since forever ago, back before he even met Piers. There just wasn't anyone he wanted more than <em>this.</em></p><p>"You're perfect, so perfect..." Raihan groans and keeps himself pressed against this door. No thrusting into that talented mouth no matter how much he thinks Piers might actually like it.</p><p>The grip on his hips tightens and the steady bobbing turns into nuzzling, further and further down until he feels himself slip into Piers' tight, silky throat. Something incomprehensible flies out of his mouth when Piers scratches straight down his hips, fresh lines of fire to accompany the heat encasing him, and to top it all off Piers hums around the cock lodged in his throat, sweet and low like kneeling here is the only place he wants to be. Raihan can count on one hand the times he's been deepthroated like this, and he doesn't remember any of those times feeling this good. He tightens his hands in Piers' silky hair, enticing another sweet sigh and nuzzle, and some thread of control frays.</p><p>He pulls Piers' head back a few inches and gently guides him back down until a delicate nose bumps against his stomach. Piers takes it like a champ, enough that Raihan feels braver in fucking that accepting throat and hoping to god he doesn't come too soon. Trust a singer's breath control.</p><p>His hips are pressed back against the door and he instantly releases Piers' head. A ragged moan tears out of him when Piers pulls off all the way with a coy flick of the tongue along the head, lips flushed and shined and looking more kissable than ever.</p><p>"I could do that all day, but maybe some other time, yeah? Right now I want you in me," Piers says, voice husky and low, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing Raihan has ever heard. Also the best idea he's ever heard, fuck, he's dreamed about mounting that pretty ass and taking his sweet time fucking into him.</p><p>"Let me get my lube!" He grasps for the doorknob while Piers stares at the motion in disbelief.</p><p>"You don't keep any in your bedroom?"</p><p>He gives a fond shouldn't-you-know? look. "I don't bring people here to stay the night, remember? You're special!"</p><p>He's off with a wink, confidence masking how weird he feels for pacing down the hall naked with a raging boner still wet from being buried in Piers' hot mouth. The sooner he gets the goods the better.</p><p>When he returns, bottle in one hand and shiny wrapper in the other, he nearly trips over a new article of clothing on the floor. Skinny jeans. He lifts his gaze and almost drops the bottle. Piers lounges upon his bed, bare legs shifting over the covers and drawing his eye up and up to the little peek of teal underwear beneath the loose hem of a black top.</p><p>Hypnotized, Raihan staggers towards his lover on the bed. Piers lies back and tugs the hem of the shirt up, teasing a pale stomach and slim waist that Raihan cannot wait to get his mouth on. First, though, he wants to see what Piers looks like wearing nothing but his shirt, as in <em>nothing</em> but his shirt.</p><p>"Gonna stare all day or make a move?" Piers chuckles and lifts a leg, and the slide of a knobby ankle against his thigh spurns him into action.</p><p>Piers happily lifts his hips when Raihan, finally in bed with him, tugs his underwear down. The smooth sound of fabric over soft skin gives rise to goosebumps. Raihan takes his sweet time, fingertips trailing over every inch of leg traveled until the teal thing is finally off and discarded onto the floor. He gives the ankle in his hand a gentle squeeze before lowering it down to the covers.</p><p>"You are seriously the prettiest thing I've ever seen..."</p><p>Hair spread across the pillows like sea spray, arms high and eyes inviting, Piers is a piece to be worshipped, and it takes everything Raihan has to not fall upon him and devour instead. Beneath the faded black fabric, Piers' dick makes a mouthwatering impression. Raihan reaches out and strokes a finger over the covered hardness, eyes on Piers' face as he arches his back and sighs for more.</p><p>To his surprise, rather than lie back and bask in the attention, Piers rolls onto his front, hair tossed over a shoulder to make room for a heated glance. His pale legs spread and Raihan settles anew between them.</p><p>"Ya didn't bring that bottle for nothin', did ya?" Slim hips rock against the bed. "Don't wanna be empty for long, love..."</p><p>Fuck, that's right. Can't leave him waiting. Raihan coats two fingers and waits for his body heat to warm it up enough. In the meantime, he tugs the soft fabric up Piers' lower back, agonizingly slow as a treat for himself, wanting to savor every inch of reveal of that pert little butt he's fantasized so many times about.</p><p>It's better than he imagined. Piers' arse is perfect, perfect size, perfect shape, perfect everything. He wants to sink his teeth into that flesh, mark it, spank it, see how much it can take before Piers writhes from it being too much. For now, all he does is push a palm over the soft flesh, smooth and gentle and squeezing with restraint. Perfect handful, made for him...</p><p>Beneath his touch, Piers squirms and whines, eager for more. Wanting him.</p><p>"I've got you, baby."</p><p>He brings his slick fingers up to the little hole waiting for attention. Piers shivers when he teases right at the entrance, circling and nudging with pressure that's barely not enough to slip inside. He has to press a hand against Piers' lower back to stop him from rocking back into it.</p><p>"C'mon already! You're bein' a tease..."</p><p>"What's the rush?" he chuckles. They have each other, no need to be frantic about anything. This is a moment to be savored. Raihan's waited long enough for this, he can wait a few minutes more to ensure that he fully enjoys everything being offered to him. But, he does need to take pity on his partner, especially when he's answered with a cute whine. Feels pretty great knowing Piers is so desperate for him.</p><p>He slips a finger inside, thrilled at how well Piers takes him to the knuckle. For as cold as the singer is on the outside, his insides are scalding. Piers keens and he releases his hold on the man's lower back, allowing him to roll his hips and adjust as much as needed. Raihan twists his wrist and explores around, stroking and probing, gently thrusting, working Piers open until he can sink a second finger in. Now they're in business... Fingering always was a favorite skill of his. Call it musician's talent.</p><p>Piers gasps and curses the moment he starts working his magic. "Oh, you—long fuckin' fingers, you bastard—fuck!"</p><p>Pride puts a smirk on his face. "And I know how to use 'em. Relax, baby." He pushes a hand up under the shirt, smoothing across Piers' bony back. You really could count every vertebrae blindfolded. "I'll get you nice and ready for me."</p><p>"Countin' on it, big guy." Piers muffles a deep sigh into the pillows and arches his back, encouraging him to continue, and continue he will.</p><p>Soon, he'll be able to hold Piers close and be held tightly in return when they finally join and share pleasure and love and say each other's names and trade as many <em>I love you's</em> as they want, easy as breathing.</p><p>Sweet anticipation.</p><p>He's three fingers deep and Piers' shallow panting is his new favorite way of keeping time. He could steer Piers towards a climax any time he wanted by attacking the right spots, stroking at the right speeds, but selfishly, he keeps his hand a step back from that brink of intensity. Instead of coming around his fingers, he wants the first orgasm Piers has to happen while face to face, not while the other is buried into the pillows. For it to happen now would feel too impersonal, and that's not what he wants out of this. Until then, he'll take his sweet time memorizing how Piers feels around his fingers, the way he clenches when he curls his fingers <em>just</em> so, and how every graze against his prostate makes his entire body shudder. So perfect, and it's all his... God, he can't wait to make love to this man.</p><p>A low growl is his only warning before Piers shoves up and pulls off his hand. "I'm ready. Enough waitin'. Where's the—" He spots the condom on the covers and snatches it up, setting the corner between his teeth and grabbing Raihan's shoulders with intent sharpening his features.</p><p>Raihan's back hits the mattress before he knows it. Piers straddles his thighs, wrapper torn, and now skilled hands are rolling the condom onto his still-hard cock. Piers sits up, one hand planted onto Raihan's chest and the other holding his erection steady, breath desperate, eyes closed, not even looking at him as he lowers.</p><p>Not even looking?</p><p>Chest tightening, Raihan's hands fly to Piers' waist to stop him from moving any lower. "Wait! Wait, wait, please."</p><p>"'Scuse me?" Piers tosses his head up, confusion scrawled over his face and knitting his brow. He takes one look at Raihan's face and instantly defuses. "What's wrong, love?"</p><p>He swallows. "Nothing. Just... can we switch positions?" Getting ridden is fun, but now isn't the time for reckless fun. It's their first time together, shouldn't it be more intimate than that? He doesn't want Piers to just take from him, he wants to <em>give.</em></p><p>Piers clambers off without protest. Raihan's relief only lasts a second when he realizes that 'switch positions' was taken to mean 'get on your hands and knees.' Piers arches his back prettily, all on display and ready to be mounted. Raihan's cock twitches at the sight, but...</p><p>"This what you wanted?"</p><p>No!</p><p>It takes a few false starts to get his voice working, and when he does, it's not graceful at all. He feels terrible for interrupting what was bound to be a fun time for them both.</p><p>"A-Actually, I... I was thinking more along the lines of, maybe, you on your back, and... me over you."</p><p>"Missionary?" Piers incredulously scoffs, and sits back on his heels, turning to face him. "Are you serious? You wanna fuck me in missionary?"</p><p>He tries not to look wounded and probably fails. He can feel his expression fracturing towards frail. Nothing wrong with that, it's good to communicate, he needs to keep that in mind so they can clear this up. "Yeah. I do. I wanna look at you, and hold you and kiss you, and... be held back. I want your arms around me while we fuck."</p><p>Fuck isn't even the best word for what he wants to do. He wants to make love, as cheesy as that sounds even in his own head.</p><p>Understanding flashes, followed by a flush. The sexy confidence holding Piers tall falls away, and he rubs his arm, looking so self-conscious that Raihan almost regrets being open about his feelings. They kneel on the bed facing each other, both avoiding each other's gazes.</p><p>"Sorry," Piers quietly says. "Didn't mean to sound so dismissive there... I just... ain't used to anyone wantin' to have me like that. All intimate 'n close. I shouldn'a assumed you'd be like what I'm used to, I shoulda known that you'd be different. 'M sorry. I was ruinin' the mood for ya by actin' a slut, wasn't I."</p><p>"No, no, I'm not upset at you!" Unable to stand the small gap between them, Raihan reaches out and tugs Piers towards him. The smaller man fits well in his lap, and without all his clothes and accessories on, hair down and loose, Piers looks so much more delicate. Raihan awkwardly maneuvers his legs beneath him until he can safely lean back against the headboard and the pillows around it, beloved held close to his chest. "Piers, you're not a slut. I mean, if you wanna be, that's totally okay, I'm not here to shame. I'm kind of a man-whore myself. It was honestly really hot that you wanted me so bad."</p><p>Piers casts a doubtful look up at him and curls up harder against his chest. "Then why'd ya stop me from gettin' on your dick?"</p><p>"Because," he says, tightening his arms. "Like I said, I want to hold you through it. I just found out you love me back, and I'm so happy you wouldn't believe it. Maybe it's silly and idealistic of me, but... I want our first time together to be all... romantic and stuff. I just wanna hold you and kiss you so bad, and hear your voice up close, and see and feel nothing but you, and make you feel so good that you forget that anything that isn't me exists out here. Is that... okay?"</p><p>
  <em>You just killed the entire mood, bet on it.</em>
</p><p>"..." Piers makes a strangled sound and balls himself up, thigh rubbing against Raihan's erection and making him bite his lip because oh, yeah, that's somehow still a thing. "You bloody romantic, can't believe you can do this shite t'me."</p><p>Hope flares. He dares to interpret that scolding as a good thing. "What can I say, I'm special, aren't I."</p><p>"Yes you are. Thought I was immune to all this sappy stuff." Piers throws his head back and reveals how scarlet he is, blushing frustration. It's fucking adorable, and Raihan finds himself smiling back and aching to kiss those ruddy cheeks. "I swear you get off on makin' me blush with how often you manage it."</p><p>"I'm a first rate phlebotomist, turns out! A master at drawing blood to the surface in all the right ways," he cheekily drawls.</p><p>"Must be, if I'm still turned on after all that... Ugh, alright. You want romantic sex? I'll do my best. But I'm warnin' you, this sort of thing is all new to me, so... ya better take good fuckin' care o' me, alright?"</p><p>He would jump for joy if he weren't reclined and eager to remain right here in this bed. "That was always the plan. Oh, babe, I'm gonna make you feel amazing, I promise! And I swear I just need to get this out of my system, you are absolutely free to jump my bones and ride me into the sunset anytime you want after this."</p><p>"Good." Piers grabs his jaw, leans up, and kisses him. Raihan instantly melts and forgets half of what his plans were the moment a sweet tongue swipes past his lips. He can only smile like a fool when Piers draws away. "'Cause like hell am I givin' up the chance to have some real wild fun with you." Piers' expression softens. "Takin' things slow is a first for me, but... with you, I think it'll be made worth it."</p><p>"Baby, I'll make it worth it."</p><p>Piers rolls his eyes in jest, lips tugged up in a fond smile. "You deserve a badge for bein' the first person to make me look forward to feelsy vanilla sex."</p><p>That strokes his ego to an astounding degree. "I will blow your <em>mind</em> with this feelsy vanilla sex, just watch me."</p><p>"My eyes are open and only on you, love." Piers chuckles and reaches for the bottle that fell somewhere around the covers. He cheekily pops the cap and pours some into a waiting palm, not hesitating to coat Raihan's cock with a few teasing, thorough strokes, cold even through the condom. Won't be cold for long. "Kudos for stayin' hard through that hiccup, by the way."</p><p>"I had the love of my life half-naked in my lap, of course I'm still hard."</p><p>Piers sits back, and with a wink that has Raihan leaning forward, strips the large t-shirt off and ceremoniously tosses it away. Fully nude, he looks a dream. Those bare collarbones are begging to be bitten, and Raihan wishes those pretty pink nipples were in his mouth right now.</p><p>"Devourin' me with yer eyes already..." Piers purrs and makes a show of crawling up only to lay himself down at Raihan's side, snuggling into the pillows and opening his arms. Offering himself. Raihan flashes back to last night, when he held such a similar pose for such a different reason. Or is it really all that different?</p><p>"Come here, Rai," Piers says, cementing the sentiment.</p><p>Raihan falls over him, needy for the touch, and he sighs deep and satisfied when those gentle arms wrap around him, not even caring about the slick rubbing onto his shoulder. Slim legs part and make way for him. They fit together perfectly like this, better than he ever imagined. Piers is comfortable and covered and safe, eyes a warm hearth of adoration and desire and a dozen other things Raihan wants to lose himself in.</p><p>"No holdin' back," whispers husky into his ear. "You have me now. You can take what you want."</p><p>"I don't want to take." He noses up the side of Piers' neck and lazily rolls their hips together in a promise. "I want to give. Give you everything you could ever want or need," he furthers, when Piers starts to squirm beneath him. "Let me love you, baby."</p><p>"T-Tryin'... Don't make me wait for it, please, I really do need you, Rai." Piers whines and clutches at his shoulders when the blunt head of a cock presses against his entrance. Raihan pauses. Should they step back, prep him more?</p><p>"Keep goin', I can take it..."</p><p>"If you're sure..."</p><p>He almost thinks it won't fit, not that he has any issues with getting to play with Piers' ass some more, but when Piers angles his hips a particular way he buries in at last. Piers whimpers and Raihan kisses him through it, restraint buzzing through his body while his partner adjusts.</p><p>As soon as he doesn't need a hand to guide himself in anymore, he glides his touch up Piers' arm and gathers a tense hand in his, tugging it from his shoulder, pressing it into the pillows. He has to work his fingers in there and pry Piers' open a bit, but once they're laced together, palm to palm, Piers shudders and full-body relaxes, legs spreading even more and allowing Raihan to ease himself deeper, to the hilt. So tight, but so welcoming to him...</p><p>Piers cries out and tilts his head back, throat exposed with no collar or guarded posture to hide it, and Raihan indulges in the honor of that trust with attentive lips and teeth. The haze of lust wrapping around them is made thicker, headier, thanks to the powerful feelings supporting it. This feels right, so right, to be tangled up with the man his heart's been singing for and finally, finally has.</p><p>"Love you." He presses the words close to his beloved's neck and carefully draws his hips back only to rock deep again.</p><p>Piers squeezes his hand in return, and Raihan knows exactly what he means to say.</p><p>They don't need words after that, crafting and sharing a language of their own between every new press of their bodies and every lock of eyes and brush of their lips, from tender to desperate and everything in between.</p><p>- - -</p><p>They go through two condoms and would have gone through a third if they had any in Piers' size on hand.</p><p>That was... wow, is all he can say. His imagination was a pale, fragmented reflection of smoke compared to the real thing.</p><p>Exhausted in the best kind of way, Raihan lies sprawled on top of the messy covers, lover cuddled up to his chest and drawing idle shapes over his chest and stomach while he stares at the ceiling like it holds all the answers to life's mysteries.</p><p>It's not even noon and he's gotten laid, learned about requited feelings, and netted himself a boyfriend. ...Wait a second.</p><p>Raihan turns his head to the side. Most of his view is taken up by a riot of ruffled black and white. Raihan's seen some interesting sex hair in his lifetime, but this takes the crown for the wildest.</p><p>"Hey..."</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"We're boyfriends now, right?"</p><p>"Mmhm." Piers kisses his chest and reaches down to squeeze his thigh, right below where Piers' own is hooked over it. "I'm all yours, if I get to call you mine too."</p><p>His heart still has the energy to leap at that. Raihan relaxes back and allows himself a smile, aimed right at the ceiling with his eyes closed. Boyfriends. Relationship. Piers is his, and they belong to each other.</p><p>He licks his lips and gives Piers' waist a loose squeeze. "Want to hear a fun story?"</p><p>"Sure." Piers rubs his palm over Raihan's sternum, fingertips drumming along his collarbone. "Chat away. Love hearin' your voice."</p><p>Aw, baby...</p><p>Raihan clears his tired voice.</p><p>"At my university, I lived in student housing on campus. The dormitory I was at had this tradition. You see, outside, right near the stairs leading up to the front doors, was this big old bell. This thing was ancient, huge, looked way too old and official for anyone to touch. We all thought it was just some boring sculpture meant to honor some old guy's donation to the university, but nope. I mean, yeah, it was exactly that, but it had a particular purpose. My first week there, the third years made sure to tell us that if you had your first ever hookup, you march right up and give it a big old clang, louder the better, soon as you can."</p><p>"And did you? I recall you tellin' me about losin' your virginity to, quote, a 'little red bird' that lured you into her cage and had her merry way with you durin' some party."</p><p>He puffs his chest. "I hit that thing so hard it woke the whole dorm up. Wish you could have heard how loud that bell rang at three in the morning."</p><p>Piers laughs at the image and cuddles closer. "Don't have to. Ya definitely rang mine nice and loud, that's for sure."</p><p>If his ego could purr it'd be gunning like a motorcycle. Raihan rolls them both over, so that Piers can rest on his back with his hickey-covered chest displayed like the work of art it is.</p><p>"You're beautiful, you know that?" He bumps their noses together and stares deep into his favorite pair of eyes. "The messy, fucked-out look really suits you."</p><p>A loose chuckle, a nuzzle back. "You should see me when I've got my eye makeup smudged and runnin'. Ooh, actually, there's an idea..."</p><p>"What? What is it?"</p><p>"How's about next time I come see you I bring my favorite tube of lipstick." That doesn't sound like a question, not that Raihan remotely minds. "I think the color would look great on you. Could get a little right here..." A finger traces over his collarbone. "And here..." Up his throat. "And just a touch right there." Tap on his cheek. "Wouldn't even need my hands to apply it, love."</p><p>If he hadn't literally just had the most satisfying session of sex in his life he would be painfully hard right now.</p><p>"I've got no complaints. Mark me up, baby, I think it's only fair, considering." He traces over the constellations of nips and bites scattered over Piers' neck, chest, and shoulders. Near the end of session number two he went the teensiest bit overboard, much to his boyfriend's delight and desperate encouragement.</p><p>"Oh, I plan on it. You'll look great with a nice dark shade of <em>fuck me</em> purple kissed all over ya."</p><p>Please, god, yes. Raihan settles himself down atop his boyfriend. "I shouldn't be surprised that an artist like you gets the best ideas."</p><p>Piers snorts. "Like you ain't an artist same as me."</p><p>"Not one who dresses like a new-age vampire and uses antique newspaper clippings to make handmade collages for their album cover art."</p><p>Piers clicks his tongue, not really mad. "So I like makin' my own cover art, sue me. It's cheaper to use recycled materials. Not to mention better for the environment."</p><p>"Suuure. Point is, you're artsier fartsier than I am, and I love it. I love my dramatic goth punk boyfriend and <em>wow</em> I don't think I will ever get tired of calling you that."</p><p>The hand tousling his locs is an invitation to snuggle up as tight as possible and squeeze. Best day ever, for real...</p><p>But, good as it is, they can't snuggle here all day.</p><p>Piers is the first to push himself upright with a stiff groan. Or, he struggles to. Raihan has to get up and stop pinning him down first, and once he's clear, Piers sits up, wild hair spilling over his shoulders.</p><p>"'M gonna use your shower, then I really gotta head out and feed Stagger. He's your step-son now, so ya better be invested in that dusty baby's well-being."</p><p>He's pretty sure that in cat years, Stagger would be his step-grandpa, but all cats are babies no matter the age. "I've always wanted to be a father," he intones with a hand on his chest. "And yeah, use whatever you want. I meant it earlier, about my home being your home."</p><p>Piers pauses a step away from the bed. He turns halfway, and Raihan catches a flash of a grateful eye before sex-messy bangs swing into place and obscure it.</p><p>"I appreciate it," he softly says, then turns to give a smile that's so loving and tinged with slight melancholy that it hurts to look at, in a good way. "More than you could know."</p><p>- - -</p><p>
    Bit surreal to hear his own shower running while he's still out here naked in bed. Halfway through his social media
    check-up routine, Raihan's phone buzzes and pings with a text. He almost swipes it away to continue scrolling, but
    the name at the top of the notification has him stunned like a deer before an eighteen-wheeler.
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>RAIHAN!!! First you stop texting me for ages, then you drop a bomb like this on me? Since when were
            you in love! Why didn't you tell me sooner!</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    Aaack...</p><p>
    Raihan winces and hunkers down amidst the sheets he knows will need a wash. Once Piers is out of the shower and the
    hot water won't be at risk he'll take care of it, but for now he's got bigger things to worry about.
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I'm sorry! You were just really busy, you know? And I had a lot going on too. I didn't want to come
            knocking for a bro-y heart to heart while you need to focus on the new season!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Oh thank god I caught you. I would have called if I didn't realize it might have interrupted an
            important moment. Have you told him yet?</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Yes and it went very well thank you very much</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>You know I'm bad with sarcasm, Rai, please tell me clearly.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I did what I said I would! (took a few tries but...i did it!) I told him I loved him and he loves me
            back!! I have a boyfriend now, I just got laid, and I'm very happy with life save for feeling bad about not
            telling you about all my love stuff beforehand... so... sorry about that :(</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>there's the bare bones of it.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>I'll give my congrats in a moment. First, Raihan, you don't have to stop texting me just because Im
            busy, you know?</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    Do they have to talk about this now? While he's basking in post-coital bliss? Raihan chews the inside of his cheek
    and rolls onto his side. He's cried most of his messy feelings out regarding this exact topic, like, a month ago, so
    putting words together should be easy. Leon's his best friend and deserves more openness from him. If it goes south,
    Piers is only fifteen feet away, behind one door and a shower curtain. Surely he won't mind being barged in on if
    it's an emergency, right?
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Are you sure I can't get the congrats first</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>*Yes!* I can't ignore something like you feeling like you had to stop texting me for any reason. I
            check my phone every day, I love getting messages from you!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>sorry...</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Did anything happen?</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Not really</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>It's just that...</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Our schedules are so different and it's so random when we get to text in real time like this, and I
            guess that just got to me. It's not either of our faults</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>What do you mean, got to you?</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    He must not have vented enough angst out before, because there's a new pang in his chest and he's curled up tight on
    the bed without realizing. Guess talking to a third party can't compare to discussing with the source...
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Like! idk, im just super conscious of dropping things your way and being all excited to share stuff
            only to be on tenterhooks waiting and waiting for you to see it</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>And hours might pass before you're able to talk and reply</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>and by then the magic's kind of gone, you know? Sometimes I get re-hyped but sometimes it's kind of a
            bummer that I'm not able to share stuff *with* you, interact with you over it while it's still fresh.
            Sometimes it feels like we're emailing instead of texting. And I didn't want the whole.... "sitting waiting
            for you to check on me" thing to happen with something as important as Piers...</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>But like I said, it's not your fault. I know you're busy. So am I. Adult life just kicks our arses
            and it sucks</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Raihan... I know you said it's not my fault but I'm still going to say sorry. I didn't know you were
            feeling neglected</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>that's kind of a strong word</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Still going to use it</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Rai, I love getting texts from you. They really give me something to look forward to while I'm
            training. I would have been so excited to hear that you and Piers have gotten so close, and I wish I could
            have celebrated that with you somehow.</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    That hurt. Ohh that hurt.
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>sorry for taking away from your excitement too. I'll get back to texting you again, promise!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>It's alright. I understand where you were coming from, there's no need to apologize any more. I'm
            sorry too, for not being able to be there for you as much as you need.</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    Would it be too much to apologize for being so needy in the first place?
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Which is why I'm glad that you have someone like Piers. He keeps you good company, right?</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Yeah! Just yesterday we went to the arcade together, I showed him how to play DDR and he got really
            good real fast. He might get me up against a wall someday! And we've done a lot of great stuff with our
            music, and last night he spent the night and this morning he made me breakfast (before all the confession
            stuff happened)</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>He cooked for you in your own house? And you were worried about how your feelings would be
            received?</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>.....okay when you put it like that it makes me sound a bit thick doesn't it</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Usually that's what people call me :)</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Put that innocent smile away, we both know what other people mean by that</span>
        </p>
</div><p>
    <span class="hide"><br/></span>
    Raihan runs his tongue along his teeth and only then realizes he's been smiling. Might have been ages since he's
    talked with his best friend, but their back-and-forth remains one of the easiest things in the world. How the hell
    did he keep himself away this long?
</p>
<p>
    A soft note, clear and steady, snags his attention enough that he sits up in bed. Is that...?
    <span class="hide"><br/><br/></span>
</p><p></p><div class="phone">
  <p class="messagebody">
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>oh my god lee i can hear him singing in my shower</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>he is SINGING in my shower</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>oh god he is such an angel. And now I can say out loud that I love him, oh my godddddd dd d ddd angel
            my angel</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>He's in your shower? Oh, right. You said you got laid! Was it nice?</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>he was incredible lee</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>in cred ible</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I'm not gonna talk about the details cuz that's personal and between us only, but god, I just</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I'm so happy to have him</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>He's really all mine now, after everything...</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>If he's as good as a person my gut tells me he is, then you deserve it. Really, Rai.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>nooooooo</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>don't get all sentimental on me again my poor heart can't take it after everything it's been through
            today.... plees spare....m</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Alright, alright. At any rate, I'm not surprised you got him in the end! You're one of the most
            attractive and loveable people I know, Raihansome ;P</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Oh my god</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>I wanted that to die years ago stop bringing that back!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>You're the one who came up with it first! I still have the screenshots of your old tinder bio to
            prove it.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>fuckkckvkk yououu</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Love you too, mate. Hey, why don't you send me some pictures of you two together when you're able? I
            want to see the happy couple.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Soon as he's out of the shower I'll ask for one! But he might say no since he'd be indecent and all
            wet. And covered in marks ;) I'll get him dressed up in my clothes and maybe then he'll agree to a
            photo-op</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>You owe me details about how all this happened, too. Fill me in on everything. I've got to go soon,
            but I promise, I'll read everything and get back to you as soon as I'm available! Don't hold anything
            back!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Oh you have ASKED for it</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>Okay lemme scroll back and see where I last left off in my mission to keep you painfully informed
            about my hopeless arse's attempts to get Piers to like me</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>shite that was a long time ago ahaha..... but! Picking up where we left off, no more keeping to
            myself!</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>god it feels really good to talk to you again, I just need to get that out there</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="generic_reply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>
                    Leon: </b>
            </span>Feels really good to hear from you, too. You're my best friend, that's never gonna change, distance
            be damned.</span>
        <br/><br/>
        <span class="rreply">
            <span class="hide">
                <b>Raihan: </b>
            </span>ok seriously my heart Will go out with any more sappiness. On to the gossip!</span>
        </p>
</div><p>- - - - - - - - -</p><p>It happens on a brisk Sunday sunny afternoon, at 2:43, more or less on the dot.</p><p>The playback finishes. They sit in silence. Look at each other. And broadcast through locked gazes that <em>this is fucking it.</em></p><p>Raihan hammers that save button with a flurry of clicks and minimizes the window to keep it safe, hands off the keyboard to prevent any chance of a last-second disaster from happening.</p><p>"Oh my god. Oh my god, we fucking did it!" He whoops and wheels up to his synths, slamming his fingers down on the one set up as a drum kit and rapping out a replay of the main beat, cackling all the while. "All that work, and it's finally done! Dee-oh-en-ee <em>done!</em>"</p><p>"And you've still got the energy to play," Piers snorts.</p><p>"Always got the energy to make music, babe." He holds down a pad and grins at the swelling synth. Such a familiar sound to him at this point. Now he gets to do other things with it! He turns a knob and pokes his tongue through his teeth as the bass wobbles and buzzes with every twist.</p><p>Piers rises from his chair and seats himself on one of Raihan's wide-spread knees. Raihan pays it no special mind at first, too absorbed in storming through new beats and rhythm possibilities, but when the notes of the midi keyboard at his side rise above his finger drumming, he opens his ears. Piers switched it to the default grand piano setting. Simple chords, sounds catchy! Most importantly, it's playing along with his drumming.</p><p>Heart skipping with rising joy, Raihan buckles down and focuses on his synths. Piers wants a beat? Oh, he'll give his boyfriend a beat.</p><p>It only takes four bars before they're in sync, Raihan forging a bold, rapid rhythm with Piers weaving a melody right on top, fingers dancing over the keys with confidence and flair and god, he would watch that forever if he didn't have his own improv to focus on.</p><p>He switches the drum kit to record, plays out a fun, stable stretch, and sets it to loop. Fuck yeah for automation! Hands now free, Raihan drags another synth towards him, his beloved OP-1, and flies to one of his favorite presets so he can get back in the game, not just as the rhythm section but as second lead. He's no piano whiz like Piers, but he's handy at slamming out something fun. Hopefully complementary to the jazz-reminiscent melody that Piers is grooving to.</p><p>His leg bounces a count-off right beneath Piers' arse. It's taken as the warning it is, and he grins when the piano swerves into concluding its phrase. And a one, two, three, <em>yes!</em></p><p>The synth's countermelody doesn't quite match what Piers put out, but close enough! He laughs as he plays away on his tinier pseudo keyboard, the electronic phrases more chaotic and carefree than the controlled, thoughtful exploration Piers put together. It's lovely all the same, he'd say, and he gets that validation when he notices his boyfriend bobbing his head and tapping his foot and prepping his hands over the piano once more. Alright, yes! His turn!</p><p>Raihan beams when he hears his own creation as the backbone of Piers' next improvisation, twisted slightly to the right and taken in a more refined direction, one that Raihan plans on taking right back the other way. He cracks his knuckles in time with the sharp beat and earns a snort in return, and with a dramatic wiggle of his fingers, he places his hands back over his synth of choice.</p><p>And just like that, they make music together. No plan, no destination, just movement and probes into each others' styles. Sometimes it feels like a tennis match, sometimes a relay race, sometimes a tango. They hurl musical phrases back and forth, pass them along to each other to complete, or twine together to build up the same thing, and it's like they're in each other's brains with this. Raihan's breathless in his seat and he knows Piers is the same.</p><p>EDM artist that he is, Raihan can't help but pave the way towards an inevitable peak. He steers them higher, tweaks knobs on the looping drums to run them faster, louder, crunchier, more bass, more impact, more everything! The piano keeps up without missing a single beat, Piers' hands a flurry over the keys, racing and snapping down in disjoint rhythms between right and left that slot together seamlessly because he's just that goddamn good. Raihan doesn't leave him playing alone for long. He jumps right back to his synth, and oh fuck yes, just a few more bars of build-up and then he can let his darling take it away.</p><p>With the anticipation of a climbing rollercoaster, they claw their way up side by side, and <em>right here,</em> this upcoming dash of trilling hi-hat is perfect to dangle on, leave the world hanging for this exact number of milliseconds, and then, then, here comes the drop, go for it, Piers, stage is all—</p><p>...Piers?</p><p>Hello?</p><p>The perfect moment for the drop passes on by with nothing to fill it. Both their hands hover over their respective keyboards as the drum track chugs away.</p><p>A quick <em>snrrk</em> scrapes of him before it sinks in what just happened. Looks like they were a little too in-sync, holding the musical door open for each other! His snicker skips into a laugh, and Piers follows not long after, and the bright commingle of their laughter is just as lovely a song as the one they spun up and cut short.</p><p>Piers slaps at the keyboard, plunking down random notes without rhyme nor reason, clunky and cacophonic and delightful. The synth joins in with more whimsical randomness, and they fulfill their musical promise not with a <em>drop</em> so much as a carefree tumble. They reach the bottom all the same, and it sounds so ridiculous that Raihan can't catch his breath. He barely has the mind to flick off the drum loop and leave them with only the sounds of them losing their shit.</p><p>"I thought—thought you were gonna do it!" Piers wheezes and nearly slips off his knee.</p><p>"Me? No, I was going to let you have the drop!"</p><p>"You're the DJ!"</p><p>"And you're my boyfriend!"</p><p>Piers giggles and sways, breathless and beautiful. "What's that got to do with anything?"</p><p>"I don't know! I just like saying it."</p><p>They stare at each other, expressions full of different ratios of thrilled and adoring, and their mirth finally winds down into panting and broad grins.</p><p>Raihan hooks an arm around his lover's waist and pulls him further into his lap. Piers' arms fall around his shoulders and they settle against each other seamlessly, a stray giggle sneaking out here and there while they get comfortable.</p><p>That sure was fun. Still sitting on the monitor screen, minimized and tucked away, is something that does require more serious attention.</p><p>"We still don't have a name for our song, you know."</p><p>Piers groans and slumps backwards, knowing that he won't be allowed to fall with Raihan's arms around him. "Don't remind me..."</p><p>"Hey, you're the nitpicker between us. Come on, let's get it figured out right here."</p><p>Another groan. "My brain's busted from finishin' the damn thing, I don't wanna think too hard about anythin' else."</p><p>"That's the thing. We don't have to."</p><p>"But for somethin' this special..."</p><p>"You think this has to be the last thing we ever make together?" He gathers Piers closer against him. "The title doesn't have to be perfect if it's only the first of many to come."</p><p>"...Raihan?" Piers says his name thoughtfully.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Repeat that last thing you said."</p><p>"Uh... Doesn't have to be perfect? No—" He gasps, bolting his posture straight and holding his little creative genius safely in his lap. "First Of Many To Come! Brilliant! If not kind of dirty, do we really want those last two words in there?"</p><p>Piers scoffs and lovingly paps him on the cheeks in alternation. "You were the one who had me sluttin' it up into a microphone, so yes, we're puttin' a bloody double entendre in the title. It really fits our lyrics, anyhow. Thematically."</p><p>"That's that, then!" He playfully gnashes his teeth like he wants to bite the fingers near his face. Piers allows him to catch one, and he grins as he holds it gently between his teeth, prodding it with his tongue and grinning at how his boyfriend's nose wrinkles. He trades teeth for lips and gives the fingertip a little suck. It makes an obnoxious <em>pop</em> when Piers whips his hand back and vengefully wipes the wetness off on Raihan's shirt.</p><p>"Nasty," Piers chides.</p><p>"You love me for me."</p><p>"That I do," Piers coolly says. "'Sides, I can be even nastier, as you'll continue to find out."</p><p>A thrill runs through him at the flirt, and the promise. Grinning like the giddy guy he is, he pulls his beloved closer and noses into his neck, the choker cold against his lips.</p><p>"I say we release our baby without any hype. Right to my main account. What do you think?" he asks against metal. "Surprise release of First Of Many To Come, Featuring The One And Only Glorious And Undiscovered Underground Punk Rock Shredder And Incredible Vocalist, Piers?"</p><p>A rough hand brushes up the back of his head, and rubs at the shaved part with a mindfulness that has him melting. Piers kisses his forehead and smiles against it; he can feel it.</p><p>"Tone that tagline down and you've got yourself a deal."</p><p>- - -</p><p>The song is a hit.</p><p>Raihan fully expected it to take off, but he wasn't expecting it to blast and rocket its way to the moon and back.</p><p>Piers' knees nearly gave out when Raihan showed him the stats on it the morning after it was dropped. It took four straight days of begging before Piers agreed to finally look at some of the comments and critiques. Lots of praise, lots of shock at how huge a swerve the piece is from Raihan's usual style, and plenty, <em>plenty</em> of clamor and theory-crafting about who this mysterious no-name vocalist was.</p><p>Piers agreed to leave it up to him to tell everyone. Tenuous as his relationship with it might be, the realm of social media has always been Raihan's domain, and times like that are when he exercises that perfect, practiced control. Instinct told him when the perfect time was to post bonus details about his latest release, starting with...</p><p>What else? A selfie.</p><p>It took about thirty takes before he finally settled on the perfect one to post, Piers graciously allowing himself to be posed and angled this way and that as Raihan figured out the best possible way to show them both in the frame together.</p><p>
  <em>Huge thanks to @SpikedUpPiers for the incredible collaboration experience! I've been a big fan of his everything for ages! Brilliant songwriter, musician, and singer all wrapped up into one pretty parcel! Go check out his stuff if you fancy a taste of the rebellious ;)</em>
</p><p>Raihan's music and artist recommendations are rare, and whenever they come, they are ravenously taken. The flood of attention to Piers' Bandcamp page rendered the poor man useless for a decent stretch of time, and many mugs of tea were made and cuddles and kisses given to help him cope. Going from one sale a month to hundreds within a week, with swarms of people snapping up his whole discography and merch like piranhas sure took its toll. Out of everyone, Raihan would like to think he's the best person to help anyone deal with fame, and the fact that it's someone he cares about motivates him all the more to be supportive and protective both.</p><p>Despite the new crowd of eager fans and steadily-growing attention, Piers refused to maintain more than the barest-bones of a social media presence, on the lone account that Raihan linked in his initial post. He's kind of relieved for it. His boyfriend's name might be more out there, and there might be adoring fans other than himself starving for details about the still-mysterious musician, but the only person who gets to know the man is himself. Raihan.</p><p>Hell, Piers shows up more on Raihan's social media accounts than his own, in the form of numerous couple selfies and candid shots he couldn't resist showing off, after asking permission to post them, of course. Raihan has no qualms about flaunting his relationship online, because fuck maintaining the illusion of romantic availability, he is <em>so</em> over that, especially after learning that Piers, surprisingly, had no issues with it too. "Long as you don't give away anything private 'n ask me before postin' any pics, I don't mind people knowin' you're taken," is what he said. Boundaries easily—and eagerly—respected.</p><p>Speaking of social media habit changes, Raihan's noticed lately that he's been engaged with it less. He still answers comments and interacts with his fans, but he hasn't obsessively perused the comments to his pictures and posts in months. He doesn't need them to get small hits of feel-good-about-yourself-ness when he has someone who loves him for real, from the shallowest veneer of him down to the roots of his soul, and he doesn't need to intake any anonymous nastiness from people who just want to tear him down when he's got someone he knows will defend him from any conceivable harm, even the kind that might come from himself.</p><p>"Oi, you listenin' t'me?"</p><p>Raihan snaps out of his thoughts in time to stop right at the crosswalk. The evening autumn wind whisks cold around them, and outside the occasional woosh of a car rolling through the neighborhood, the only sounds are the prickle of leaves skittering in the breeze across the concrete walkway.</p><p>"Sorry," he says, smiling abashedly at his boyfriend. "Was just thinking about why we were celebrating."</p><p>Piers adjusts his scarf—cashmere, dark red, one gift of many from Raihan—and huffs, shuffling closer to press against his side while they wait for the crosswalk light. "Thought it wrapped up the moment we left the restaurant."</p><p>"As if I could ever stop being proud of all our milestones. Now we just need to pick the next one! I reckon the next hundred-million streams of our song should merit taking you out to a <em>real</em> nice place."</p><p>"Like that wasn't fancy enough?" Piers scoffs and nudges him with an elbow. Time to cross. "I swear that wine guy wanted to kick me out for what I said about the chardonnay."</p><p>"In your defense, you were right, it did taste exactly like the cheap stuff in our fridge."</p><p>"<em>Thank</em> you."</p><p>They reach the other curb and Raihan primly hops up first, arm already extended to assist his man up. Piers goes along with his exaggerated gentlemanliness with a drawled second thanks, and takes Raihan's arm so they can walk side by side, Raihan's stride slow to compensate for his boyfriend's shorter legs. The sidewalk might as well be a red carpet with how much Raihan feels like a million bucks, all dressed up with the biggest catch in the city on his arm. They're only a couple blocks away from reaching Raihan's home, and therefore, only a couple blocks away from ending the night tangled up in each other's arms without a stitch between them.</p><p>"Think next time we go out, it should be someplace more lax?" he asks.</p><p>"I dunno... I think the formal settings actually help you control yourself."</p><p>He gasps in faux offense, free hand pressed to the double breast of his coat. "I can too control myself when I want to!"</p><p>"What, like that time we went clubbin' and you couldn't wait to take me into the bathrooms for a quickie and instead got us off right next to the DJ booth?"</p><p>Oh, that. He remembers that quite clearly because it happened exactly two weeks ago. Such fond memories, and he means that without any sarcasm. He still smiles just remembering how intense things were, and not just physically. Piers nearly dismantled his soul back there, under the beat and sway of their own song playing on the nightclub's speakers...</p><p>"You talk like it was only me behind it. Besides, I had sanitation in mind. Those filthy bathrooms would have been terrible for us, we could have caught something." He clicks his tongue and pats his boyfriend on the head with his free hand. "Only the best of sets for our lovemaking."</p><p>"That makes it sound like a pornography," Piers deadpans.</p><p>He can't stop his laugh. The wind pulls it up and away, and they round the corner under the yellow glow of a street lamp. Right up ahead is the front stoop, past several others. "We'd look great on camera, babe, admit it."</p><p>"I thought we already did, under your masterful photography."</p><p>"Static photos and taking video are completely different beasts, dear. I still need practice recording vide—ah!" He fumbles his keys in his attempt to pull them out. They plummet to the ground, but Piers is lightning quick, snatching them from the air before they can drop all the way.</p><p>They jingle and jangle as Piers takes care of unlocking their front door, giving it a healthy shoulder-bash to unstick it and let them inside. Warmth pours out and embraces them, and the first thing Raihan does is help his boyfriend out of his scarf. He can't resist bending down and giving the newly revealed chin a smooch before Piers catches his lips in a kiss.</p><p>"You know..." Piers steps closer, hands sneaking past the folds of his peacoat. "If you want practice takin' video, I know somethin' you could try your hand at filmin'..."</p><p>Something brushes along his shins while the implication sinks in.</p><p>"Yeah?" he breathes, slowly unbuttoning his coat. Getting a bit hot in here.</p><p>Stagger twines his way through their legs, happy to welcome them home and only a little bit upset that he's receiving no immediate attention, humans too lost in each other's eyes.</p><p>Piers smirks and reaches into Raihan's pocket, tugging out his phone and lifting it between their faces just enough that it would block another kiss should Raihan go for one.</p><p>"Yeah. Know just the thing."</p><p>Heart a-pounding with anticipation, Raihan tears his eyes away only to glance up the stairs and back in a silent question for more. Piers stands up on his toes until there's hardly any air between them. The phone lowers, leaving their lips so close together he swears he can feel the lingering autumn chill around his lover's face.</p><p>"Take us upstairs, love," Piers whispers. "I want you to take me apart tonight."</p><p>That is all the motivation Raihan needs to sweep his darling into his arms and start a dash up the stairs, relishing in the sharp gasp and clutch to his shoulders and expressing it with a rich cackle.</p><p>He's got everything he could ever need, right here in his arms. Someone to love, someone to hold, someone to laugh and cry with who loves and holds him back and trusts him to always be there, safe and warm and loving like no other.</p><p>Raihan theatrically (and gently) kicks their bedroom door open, marching right to the bed and depositing his love right in the center. He's barely unbuttoned his dress shirt before beseeching hands grab and pull him down into a heated kiss that's the best he's had so far. They're all the best he's had so far, just like every touch and every shared <em>I love you</em> triumphs over the last, and Raihan knows that as long as they're together, it'll only keep getting better and better from here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap! We are done. Finished! That's all there is. ...Kinda. My dear friend <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/works">thepizzasitter</a> is writing a companion piece to this ending! That night out at the club Raihan and Piers mention in the final section? You can read about it once it's out!</p><p>This self-indulgent thing was a blast to write and I'm infinitely glad so many of you enjoyed it. Thanks to all the commenters who expressed their support for this story and made me smile! Y'all are so incredibly motivating, thank you all for reading!</p><p>I can be found on twitter, <a href="https://twitter.com/Bina_333">Bina_333</a> is me! (18+ follows only, please!)</p><p>EDIT 08-NOV-2020: The lovely Shinyphoenix has written an adorable gift fic from Stagger's point of view! Please give it a read right <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445621">here!</a></p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30627227">Extension Cord</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepizzasitter/pseuds/thepizzasitter">thepizzasitter</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
</html>